


Every Wolf's Bane

by bladeoftheshadows11



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 70,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1319041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bladeoftheshadows11/pseuds/bladeoftheshadows11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two men, both believing they are damaged beyond repair, meet through seemingly unlikely circumstances. Both want nothing more than a family, though one is a lot more obvious about it, but they can't help but believe that they aren't worthy. Through trail and error, together Harry and Fenrir learn that at some point their pasts will stop chasing them and peace can be found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Harry, Harry, Harry.” Red eyes glowed with mirth and giddy insanity. “How could you fall so easily for my trap? I had so _much_ more faith in you. But…you’re a Gryffindor for a reason, I suppose. Tell me, how did it feel when you saw your friends and… _family_ killed by your own magic?”

A nearly inhuman snarl echoed throughout the small, dank room and chains rattled. Green eyes narrowed with anger, but if one looked closely, they would notice the pain glazing into an almost insane gleam. Not unlike the red ones belonging to the one and only Lord Voldemort. Harry glared up darkly at the pale man, staying silent if just to provoke to the Dark Lord. Voldemort tsked at him.

“Harry, I have lived much longer than you puny, worthless life—that will be ending soon, just wait—so do not believe your silly little games will work on me. I am a patient man; I can outwait you. And I will.” Voldemort leaned towards Harry, a horrid smile curling his thin, bloodless lips. “I want to see you break. I want to see the strong Savior of Wizard Britain break and crumble into helpless tears. I want to hear you scream. I want to see you claw your own skin with madness. And then…only then…will I gift myself with the one thing I have always wanted. Your death.”

With a cackling laugh, Lord Voldemort straightened and swept from the room. Only when the door slammed shut solidly and the click of the lock sliding in place ringed into the room did Harry slump forward.

His vision blurred with tears and his body ached with sadness. He could remember it vividly, watching his friends perish because of him. Had he only _listened_. Didn’t he learn from his fifth year? Obviously not, because had he learned—had he bared through those lessons with Snape—then his friends and surrogate family would be alive. There was only very little solace he could find, and that was with the knowledge that the Twins and Remus were still alive. Harry didn’t know if Fate was being cruel or kind to him. He would never see them again; he was due to sink into his own despair and only when he did so would he be mercifully killed.    

How would Voldemort do it? Harry was sure the crazy bastard planned to torture him, but how? His cold laugh echoed in the dark room. Starvation and isolation wouldn’t work; he spent majority of his life like that. If anything, that would just make him more comfortable; something familiar within this horror. Hell, Harry was beginning to believe he deserved whatever Voldemort threw at him. He failed; his friends, his family, the world. Voldemort won. Harry was surrounded by enemies, no mercy found anywhere. No one would risk Voldemort’s wrath by spiriting him out of there. No, he would die and Voldemort would thrive and Britain would be under Voldemort’s thumb.

The door suddenly slammed open and Harry jerked into an upward position. He couldn’t see much as they broke his glasses, but he could make out a blurry shape stumbling towards him only to fall on the ground. Two dark blobs surrounded by the light from outside chuckled and slammed the door. Harry slowly looked back at the other blob, still on the floor. He could vaguely make out a slight rise and fall of the blob’s back, indicating that whoever it was, was at least breathing. The metallic stench of blood invaded his nose and he frowned.

“Hello? Are you okay over there?”

The blob shifted and Harry got the feeling of someone staring at him. “I’ll be fine.” The voice emitting from the blob was somehow smooth and gravelly at the same time. It made Harry shiver. “You, on the other hand, seem to be in shock. I can smell your blood.”

Harry grinned wryly. “And I can smell yours.”

A snort. “I’ll heal. I’m not human. You are.” The blob shifted closer to him. “Show me where you’re hurt. It’s not much, but I can at least close the wounds.”

Knowing that he was more than likely going to lose this argument, he held out his chained wrists, arms straining from holding up the heavily iron. “You can’t reach them; the wounds are under the chains.”

“Are the chains silver?”

“No.” Harry tilted his head to the side. Was this man a werewolf, or a vampire? He did say that he wasn’t human.

“Then I can reach.” The blob-man wriggled into a sitting position and grabbed Harry’s arms in both hands.

Werewolf then, Harry concluded. The man’s hands felt similar to Remus’; like the smooth texture of a dog’s paws, but softer. The werewolf’s hands completely incased Harry’s arms and lifted them up. Curious as to what the man was going to do, Harry watched as best as he could as his hands were pulled towards what he would assume was the man’s face. Then he jerked when his chain length ended and his arms jarred when the man accidentally kept pulling. The man released a growled curse and shifted forward.

Harry’s eyes widened and he released a gasp when he felt something wet and warm touch his inner wrist. The man’s tongue, he realized. Yes, he’d forgotten; werewolf’s saliva when they were not in their wolf form acted as a healing agent without the prior influx of the virus. The tongue carefully slid in between the small space of his wrist and the chains, gently lapping at the raw skin chafed by the metal. He stayed silent as the werewolf licked his wounds, though his cheeks were burning hot.  

When he was done, the werewolf released Harry’s wrist and sat back. “Are you wounded anywhere else?”

Around his ankles, yes, were his skin was also chafed, but he did not want the werewolf’s tongue on his skin again. Not with the strange reactions he was having. So he shook his head with a quiet ‘no’, holding his hands to his chest. He knew that the werewolf knew he was lying, but he didn’t care. So long as the werewolf didn’t press the issue. Which he didn’t.

With a grunt, the werewolf flopped back down on the hard ground. “So, you’re the infamous Harry Potter, eh?”

Harry stiffened. “Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“Nothin’. I just don’t see what the hell Voldemort’s problem is. I mean, I can practically smell your mum’s titty milk on you. Just what the hell would a little pup like you do to him?”

“Why don’t you go ask all the people who have such a strong belief in me because I sure as hell don’t know.”

The werewolf snorted. “How old are you anyway?”

“…I just turned seventeen.”

Another snort. “If you were a werewolf, then you’d only just be going through puberty. We werewolves mature slower than humans, which is why it’s better to bite a kid during the full moon when we get the urge. If one of us bit an adult, then they would more than likely die because of the conflicting hormones in their body.” The werewolf snarled. “I fucking hate bastards who bite adults just for the fun of it.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, when you get the urge?”

The werewolf shifted and Harry once again felt eyes on him. “The werewolf race is a dying one, all because of those damned wizards you’re supposed to be saving. We’re always on the run, so it’s hard on the pregnant wolves and even harder on our young. Death rates are higher than birth rates now and days. The ‘virus’ as you call it in our saliva is a survival mechanism only triggered when we’re endangered. During the full moon sometimes we get this urge, king of like this painful tingling in our teeth, that pretty much tells us we need to repopulate and the only way to do that is either with successful mating or by biting someone.”

“Wow…I—I never knew that…my uncle—he’s a werewolf, but I—.”

“Calm down, would you? It’s fine. Practically no wizard knows this. I’m only telling you this because…well, I actually don’t know.” A growl. “I’m acting real outta character right now. I have never been this…docile in my life. I fucking hate Voldemort. Wish I could just rip his throat out and call it a day but that bastard’s so heavily guarded…”

An abrupt laugh slipped from Harry’s throat. “He’s really paranoid, huh?”

“Yeah. If I had some way to contact my pack…at least Lance…then we could probably overpower the Death Eaters and get to old Voldie but this place has so many wards on it, it’s near impossible to get anything in or out.”

“Don’t werewolves in packs have that mind thingy?”

A humorless laugh. “Mind thingy…yeah, but it’s all about proximity.”

“Oh. Sucks, huh?”

“Yeah.” A brief silence filled the room. “So, uh…those friends of yours…you were really close, then?”

Harry scowled. “What do you care?”

The werewolf growled. “Hey, I might be a cold-blooded bastard, but I do value relationships, especially with those you consider closest to you, so don’t be a fucking cunt about my question.”

“Sorry.” Harry closed his eyes, not that it made a difference. “In truth…I don’t know. If you asked me five years ago it would’ve been a definite yes. But as of the late…they’ve been distant. Ron…he was always kind of jealous of me. I didn’t understand it; I mean, how could he not see that I hated all that attention? But I ignored it because he was my friend. I always accepted his apologies. And Hermione…she only just started dating Ron and so she just followed him in whatever he did. For someone so smart, she was really stupid. I guess she was in love but…I suppose I can’t understand that because I’ve never been in love myself. Ginny didn’t count; she was only after my money. Cho doesn’t count either because I was only her rebound after Cedric died. It wasn’t much of a relationship either; we kind of just kissed and left it at that.”

He jerked in surprise when the werewolf began to laugh. “Goddamn. You…your life seems to me to be very interesting, little one.”

“Yeah.” Harry couldn’t help but agree. “Real interesting.”

~oOo~

It _burned_ so bad. Harry couldn’t breathe. Everything was on fire, it felt like. Every single nerve seemed as if someone had pulled them from his body, lit them on fire, and then placed them back in his body. But he bore through it. He didn’t scream; he wouldn’t give Voldemort that pleasure.

And suddenly the pain ended. Though his body relaxed in relief, random limbs would twitch uncontrollably. He could taste the blood where he bit straight through his lip in order to keep from screaming. When he tried to open his eyes, tears blurred his vision further than his already damaged eyesight. He could feel the blood caking his hands and fingers from where he dug his nails into his palms.

“ _Harry…”_ The condescending tone sounded like a banshee screeching in his ears. “Just scream. Just a little. Then all the pain will go away. That’s all I want to hear. One tiny little screech.”

Using the last of his energy, Harry glared up at the blurry figure of Voldemort. “Go fuck yourself, _Tom_.”

Then his mind was lost in dark oblivion, even as his body arched up in searing pain.

He dreamed of his friends. Back when they were still naïve, though not too naïve because they knew Voldemort was after Harry. Back when it was a lot easier to smile and laugh and Harry didn’t have to question his friends’ loyalty. When he actually had a legit crush on Ginny. The dream was so bittersweet. An elixir he could never drink. Ambrosia never to be eaten. At the moment, he wished the Crucio being cast on him would kill him, because then he could go back to those times. But at the same time he wanted to survive. He made a friend out of that werewolf, though he still didn’t know the man’s name, and he would feel bad if he left the werewolf to fend off Voldemort by himself. He wouldn’t tell Harry what Voldemort made him do, but every night he came back to their shared room, wounded and bloody. But every time, he told Harry he was fine and tended to the raven’s chafed skin, just as he did that first day. It was a tentative beginning to a friendship at most. Harry welcomed the werewolf’s snarky sarcasm, snapping back in a similar fashion to one back at Hogwarts, when he dealt out and took verbal lashings from Malfoy.

Ironically, Harry could view his less than stable relationship with the youngest Malfoy to probably being the normal, constant thing in his life. No matter what Harry did, Malfoy’s opinion on him never changed; the comments were no more or less barbed, nor were the glares and dirty tricks. The same could be said about Snape and even Voldemort.

It saddened Harry to know that majority of the people he could trust to never change around him were people who hated him, or in some cases had a strong dislike for him. No matter what, Voldemort would’ve still chased after him to kill him; Snape _did_ keep on giving him hell, possibly more than usual if the case called for it, but still hell; Malfoy did still hex him in the ass whenever they passed in the halls; Malfoy Sr. still sneered at him nastily every time they met. Remind you, all of _them_ were Slytherins. Harry’s so called friends were all Griffindors. Go figure.

A prodding on his shoulder jolted Harry from his unconscious state, and he peered up rather angrily at the perpetrator. If anything, his vision was worse than usual, but he could still make out the pale blonde hair and bright silver eyes of Draco Malfoy. Had he the energy, he would’ve sneered at the blonde and asked him why he was there, but he could barely keep his eyes open as is and any other type of movement was bound to be painful. It would seem that Malfoy knew this, because upon seeing Harry’s eyes open, the blonde began to speak.

“Listen up, Scarhead, as I do not have much time. I had to sneak to get here in the first place. I have a pain reliever potion here for you and another potion to ease some of your twitches. It is not much but it will help. But in order to take the potions you must eat something and it will be painful. Think you are up for it?”

Harry managed to let out a grunt, albeit a painful one, and fortunately Malfoy took that as a yes as he turned away and came back with a small roll of bread. He pulled apart a small piece and gently parted Harry’s lips, stuff the bread in between. Though it hurt insanely, Harry made the effort to chew and swallow the bread, parting his lips for another piece. He couldn’t tell if his werewolf friend was there or not, but he did hope the man was also fed, else it would make him feel bad. Draco continued to feed him the small pieces of bread until the roll was gone and then the blonde slowly fed him the potions by the spoonful. As always, the potions were disgusting to taste, making the process take longer as Harry took much effort to swallow the vile liquid.

Once he was done, though, he collapsed in a boneless heap, already feeling the darkness creep back on him. He looked up at Malfoy once more, trying to convey his question through his eyes alone. The teen looked back at him coolly.  

“I guess you would like to know why I am doing this?” Malfoy sighed. “I never hated you, Harry. I never wished you dead, nor any of your friends. I admit that I was jealous and a bit angry that you had not accepted my friendship our first year, and instead of talking through it with you, I lashed out instead. But believe me when I say this, being murdered just because of some words written down on a parchment is not something that should happen to anyone. Least of all, you.” And with that, the blonde swept from the room, leaving a slightly gaping Harry to contemplate what he said.

The next time Harry woke, sunlight streamed from the small slit in the wall that he considered a window and his werewolf friend was sitting beside him. He shifted and felt familiar eyes on him.

“Fully awake this time, eh?”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You were delirious with pain before. Your eyes were open but you weren’t looking at anything and you were speaking with this weird hissing noise, a lot like Voldemort does.”

“Oh. Well, I’m not in pain anymore, so I guess I am fully awake.”

A snort. “No shit.”

“How long was I out?”

The werewolf was silent, making Harry slightly nervous. Then he spoke. “A week.”

Harry’s eyes bulged. “A _week?_ How the hell was I out for a week?”

“I don’t fucking know, Harry. What I do know is that they better move you out tonight because it’s the full moon and I’m not taking any chances and eating you on fucking accident.”

“What? They haven’t been feeding you?”

Another snort. “Course that would be what the fuck you focus on. No, not much. Definitely not enough to satisfy my wolf.”

“I don’t think you’ll eat me.”

“Why do you say that?”

Harry only hesitated for a brief second, noting his pseudo friend’s agitated state. More than likely that was how the werewolf was on a normal basis, the imprisonment being rather abnormal. “Because I think we’re too alike.”

The werewolf shifted. “The fuck is that supposed to mean, eh? We’re nothing alike.”  

“Tell me about your past.” When Harry didn’t receive a verbal response, only instead feeling the prickly feeling of the werewolf glaring at him, he began to speak softly. “You probably know this already, but when I was only one, Voldemort came to my house with intentions of killing me but only managed to kill my parents. By sacrificing herself, my mother triggered some old magic and protected me, which is why the Killing Curse only left a scar instead of a dead body. Everyone in the Wizarding world knew this. But I didn’t. Until I turned eleven and went to Hogwarts, I spent my life believing that my mother was a whore and my father was a drunken idiot and that they died in a car crash. Until I began to attend primary school, I believed that my name was actually Freak. For eleven years I lived in a small cupboard under the stairs, only to leave to cook meals, clean, and got to school. I was fed the bare minimum to survive and endured multiple beatings. When I went to Hogwarts, I thought things would get better, and in a way they did.” He shrugged and snorted. “Except for the multiple attacks on my life every year.”

His werewolf friend was silent for a long time. So long, in fact, that Harry actually began to doze a bit. He knew it was rude, but his body was actually _still_ healing and he couldn’t help the drowsiness overcoming him. He jerked awake, however, when the werewolf began to spoke, his rumbly timbre soothing and yet still captivating.

“Majority of born werewolves are born during the night. It’s myth’d that Nyx herself blesses werewolves born at night, which supposedly explains how we got our abilities. But there is a small percentage of wolves born during the day; wolves that are ridiculed and taunted by the others because of it. Sun-born wolves tend to be born weak and, if they survive infancy, grow weak, hence the teasing. No one likes Sun-born wolves; they were out-casted, ostracized. People tend to ignore when someone bullies a Sun-born, no matter how bad it gets. No one cares enough.”

Harry’s eyes lowered. “You’re a Sun-born wolf.”

“Yeah.” A growl entered the werewolf’s voice. “I’m a fucking Sun-born. But for me it was worse than the others. My ma died giving birth to me and my fucking shitty ass old man never forgave me for it. He _hated_ my guts and being a Sun-born made it increasingly worse. He started drinking and…got violent. But when I only seemed to get stronger instead of weaker, like the other Sun-borns, he just got angrier. At some point, he got his little buddies and they would all beat me. Then one day I just…snapped and killed him. Just like that. He was the fucking Alpha of the pack, so by killing him I automatically became the next Alpha, but I couldn’t handle it. I ran away and became a loner, which for an Alpha could either kill them or make them go insane. I fortunately found my pack before then but…the damage is pretty much done…”

“You’re strong for that, you know.” Harry began quietly. “Not many people could do that.”

“You did and you’re human so shut the fuck up.” The werewolf snorted. “You’ve been through more shit than someone your age should have. Now quit with this sentimental shit, it’s literally making me sick to my stomach.” He began to grumble under his breath.

Harry laughed softly. “Okay, Mr. Grumpy pants.”

A loud growl ripped throughout the room. “Don’t. Ever. Call. Me. That. Again.” The sound of shifting. “Don’t act like we’re friends or something, because we’re not. I’m just waiting until they let me outta here so that I can get back to my pack. I suggest you try to survive, pup.”   

“Yeah thanks.” Harry said dryly, a lot more subdued than before. He was actually beginning to consider the werewolf his friend, but should’ve known better. Not everyone was an easily trusting Gryffindor like he was.

He heard a sigh but ignored it, choosing instead to carefully roll over on his side. The drowsiness still lingered and his muscles twitched occasionally, so Harry wanted to sleep as much as possible in order to get better. He knew that being under a Crucio as long as he was meant that the twitching would never go away, but he hoped that he could possibly reduce it by using his muscles as little as possible, allowing them to heal and regenerate. An uncomfortable silence filled the room, full of awkward tension, and Harry heaved a huge sigh before he fell asleep.

It was many hours later when he woke again, but this time it was not as peaceful. He jerked awake with his heart racing and his muscles tensed and vibrating with adrenalin. For a second he was confused, believing he was still on the run from Voldemort, but when he felt the cold ground searing into his skin, he was shocked into remembering exactly where he was. Slowly he sat up and looked around. He couldn’t see much already, only made worse because it was nighttime and therefore dark, but he could usually make out the bulk of the werewolf sharing his cell.

Hearing a noise, Harry shifted forward and peered into the darkness ahead. A low growl reverberated towards him and then a loud crack had him jumping back in surprise. More cracks soon followed, along with grunts and the occasional hiss of pain. Harry was confused as to what was going on, until his eyes landed on the shaft of pale blue light entering from the slit in the wall and his eyes widened. His thoughts went back to the conversation he had with the werewolf earlier. It was the night of the full moon. Harry swallowed, backing away to the farthest wall and watching with wide eyes the cracking noises finally ended.  


	2. Saved

A low, but no less deep, growl reverberated throughout the room, rattling Harry’s bones. He bit his lip to keep from making any noise, though he knew it was futile. The werewolf could smell him in there. Smell his fear.

Taking a slightly shaky deep breath, Harry attempted to calm down. He still believed the werewolf wouldn’t hurt him. They spent more than a week together in the cell and Merlin be damned if it all meant nothing. Another growl emitted from the dark corner farthest from him, but he didn’t react this time. Instead he slowly crept forward on his hands and knees.  

“Hey…are you okay…? Ah, that’s stupid.” Harry bit his lip, quietly talking to himself in his edginess “He can’t understand me and even if he can it’s not like he can respond—.”

Another growl cut him off and Harry stopped crawling forward. He couldn’t see much, but could make out a bit of shifting. Suddenly the wolf jumped forward, landing not only in the shaft of moonlight but also directly in front of Harry, and the young raven jerked back with a gasp of surprise. His eyes went wide as he stared at the wolf, not expecting it to be so beautiful. Due to his proximity, closer than the wolf would be in his human form, Harry could see the wolf as clear as if he wore his glasses.

His fur was stormy dark grey, with swirls of black and a lighter shade of grey spiraling from his forehead down to the base of his tail and splitting down each hind leg. Harry would guess that the wolf’s eyes in his human form were grey, because at the moment his eyes were bright silver, glowing slightly in the blue light. He was huge, nearly half Harry’s height; more so than even Remus, who Harry had seen once during the full moon. Remus had seemed big to Harry then, but the wolf in front of him easily dwarfed his second godfather.

Harry startled when the wolf took a step towards him. Then he froze, heart thumping so loud in his chest that he was sure the wolf could hear him, as grey beast leaned down at sniffed. Its head tilted to the side a bit, and it snorted before leaning down to sniff Harry once again. Harry relaxed a bit, realizing that the wolf wouldn’t hurt him, but was simply curious. At least until those bright silver eyes flashed black and the wolf shot out, biting Harry on the juncture where his shoulder and neck met. He let out a yelp, more so from surprise than pain, and stared wide eyed at the wolf’s fur that was kind of tickling his nose a bit. Then the pain began.

He didn’t struggle, knowing that if he did, the wolf’s teeth would move and tear further into his skin, causing him more pain. Thanking Merlin that his twitches weren’t acting up, Harry tried to relax as much as he could. Due to his initial panic, Harry didn’t realize, but now he remembered what the wolf had told him before; wolves didn’t randomly bite people as the Wizarding world believed. On the full moon, sometimes the wolves would feel the need to bite someone in order to repopulate their ranks. That would explain the black flash Harry saw in the wolf’s eyes, but he still couldn’t help but be afraid. The wolf had also told him that the virus only worked on the young. Was he too old and the virus would reject him? Or were his hormones already in enough disarray due to his adolescence that the virus could easily slip in and take control?

On one hand, Harry didn’t want to become a werewolf. Yes, he would be happy that he could be more like Remus and even join his godfather during the full moon. But he didn’t want to be pushed out of the Wizarding society and forced into seclusion. On the other hand, Harry didn’t want to die. Not like this, anyway. Voldemort put him through all that pain and strife and _goddammit_ if he didn’t want the fucking bastard to be the one who ended his life.

Just as he finished the thought, the wolf released his neck. It let out a soft whine and began to lap gently at the wound, no different than it did in its human form when tending to Harry’s chafed skin. But it made no difference as Harry’s veins themselves seem to catch fire. The pain was nearly rival to being under a Crucio, but this time there was no Voldemort standing over him, pointing his wand with glee, so Harry allowed himself to release a scream.

The pain seemed to last for hours. Harry would’ve believed it was days, had he not felt the soft fur of the wolf pressing into his skin. And every once in a while, he could feel the wolf would lapping comfortingly at his face with a rough tongue. No one came in no matter how loudly he screamed; probably believing Harry was being eaten alive. The burning sensation in his veins long since disappeared only to be replaced with the harsh feeling in his chest, as if his magic core was being ripped apart and put back together by a blind toddler.

But as the blue light of the moon was slowly replaced with the pale yellow of the rising sun, the pain began to ease off. Harry could feel the wolf, which had fallen asleep beside him, return to man. But he couldn’t react in his half dazed state. He was utterly exhausted, but couldn’t fall asleep for the life of him. He survived, in the least. A werewolf yes, but most definitely an alive one. He managed to find sleep once his body finally collapsed in exhaustion.

He awoke when the werewolf did. He blinked at the bright sunlight streaming from the slit in the wall, eyes watering. Then he paused and looked around. Everything was clear, defined, as if he had his glasses on. But he knew he didn’t because he watched Voldemort snap them easily. A sound to his side had Harry looking over, straight into sleepy blue-grey eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the werewolf clearly for the first time.

The man had to be in either his late twenties or early thirties, though he could be older being a werewolf, as Harry was only going by his appearance. His body, which was mostly shown as the werewolf wore nothing—making Harry’s cheek flush a pretty red—was hard and compact; each and every muscle strong and defined. His face was all strong, sharp features; a strong jaw and chin, a sharp slope to his forehead, the tilt of his nose, cheekbones that jutted out attractively across his features. But his eyes were a whole other thing; icy cold, piercing bluish grey orbs, an exotic cut to them with the ends tilting up just so. He had dark brown—almost black—slightly wavy, shoulder-length hair, just as wild as Harry’s, though probably not genetically so. Harry looked away, his cheeks burning hot. The werewolf grunted and yawned loudly, his jaw cracking. 

“Sorry about that, pup. Last night, I mean. Told you about the urge. Those fucking assholes didn’t come get you and now look at what fucking happened.” He began to grumble, apparently not caring in the least about his attire. Or lack of thereof.

Harry swallowed. “It’s okay.”

The wolf ran a hand through his hair, peering at Harry. He sighed. “Dammit, now I have to take you back to the pack with me once I figure out how to get out. _Fuck,_ that means Voldemort’s going to be pissed, given that you’re alive. He’s not going to like this at all. We have to get out of here somehow.”

“I thought that was your plan in the first place? To get out of here, I mean.”

A scowl. “Yeah, but now it’s more immediate. Before I could have cared less, but now I have you under my charge.” The wolf eyed Harry. “I ain’t gonna let you die so soon after being a wolf for the first time. Shit, imagine not ever going through your first change.” He shivered. “Bloody hell.”

“Does it…hurt?”

The werewolf gaped at him, then laughed. “Does it hurt? Of course it fucking hurts! The first time is going to hurt like a bitch, but it gets easier and less painful. Stop worrying like a little bitch.”

Harry scowled and turned away, not wanting the wolf to see him sulk lest he got mocked again. Well, excuse him for asking. It’s not like completely rearranging literally everything in your body isn’t a scary fucking aspect to consider. Not like he wanted to get bitten anyway, especially not while in the clutches of Voldemort. Even worse, since it was done by someone who he barely knew. Suddenly his head shot up and he whipped around to stare at the werewolf, who tilted his head.

“What?”

“This is probably _so_ late but…” Harry bit his lip, brow furrowing. “Who exactly _are_ you?”

The werewolf blinked at him, an incredulous expression lighting his features. Then he burst out laughing, making Harry scowl. His laughter lasted for a long time, in which Harry slowly grew angrier and angrier. Finally his temper snapped and he whipped his chains at the still laughing werewolf, effectively cutting him off. Dark green and icy grey clashed as the two glared at each other. The werewolf was the first to break their intense stare, turning slightly to hide the snicker bubbling up his throat.

“You wouldn’t be looking at me like that if you knew who I am.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Try me.”

The wolf snorted. “Name’s Fenrir Greyback, pup, and I highly doubt you’re unfamiliar with it.”

Blinking, Harry sat back. Yes, he was familiar with the name. There wasn’t anyone in the Wizarding World who _didn’t_ know Greyback’s name, and the reputation that followed it. But looking at Greyback now, Harry couldn’t help but doubt that this was the man who killed little children for the hell of it. He looked nothing like the feral, insane maniac he was described as. Maybe it was a bit biased of Harry, but at the moment Greyback looked nothing more than a man subjected to the tortures of a madman. Wait…

“Hey, I thought you were allied with Voldemort. Why are you in here?”

Greyback blinked at him, flabbergasted. “I just told you who I am and all you’re concerned about is why I’m in here?” 

Harry shrugged. “I’m curious.”

The werewolf shook his head. “You astound me with every word that comes from your mouth, young one. As to answer your question…yes, a while ago my pack and I were allied with Voldemort.” His face darkened. “Then that bastard betrayed the trust I put in him, as little as it was. One of my pack was killed because of that SOB.”

Feeling a twinge in his chest at Greyback’s expression, Harry carefully eased forward and laid a hand on the werewolf’s bare knee. “I’m sorry for your loss, Greyback, but…I mean, it’s Voldemort. Shouldn’t you have expected something like that? What made you ally with him?”

“Why?” Greyback snorted. “Because he offered us something those damned wizard never would. Equality. We would’ve been able to live in a society where we weren’t ridiculed and feared and hunted. We would’ve been able to live in a society where we weren’t forced to turn innocent children in order to prevent our extinction.”

“Oh.” Harry looked down. “I’m sorry.”

Greyback snorted. “It’s not your fault, pup. Wizards are just ignorant. What they don’t realize is that the reasons they hide from the Muggles are the exact same they force us to go into hiding for. Yes, they are much stronger than Muggles, but guess what? Wizards don’t even make up half of the population of Muggles in the world. The same applies to us werewolves. We’re stronger than wizards, but they overwhelm us with numbers alone. They necessarily have no reason to fear us. I mean, there is no sane wolf in the world that would willingly eat a human in any way, shape, or form.” His nose scrunched. “Too stringy.”

That pulled a chuckle from Harry. “Understandable. So, why haven’t any of you tried to, you know, explain that to somebody?” 

“Because nobody _will_ listen, pup.”

Harry looked up into Greyback’s eyes, his expression sincere. “I’m listening.”

The werewolf gave him a surprisingly soft smile. “And I thank you for that, Harry.”

The young raven jolted. That was the first time Greyback had called him by his name. The movement brought him closer to the werewolf and he couldn’t help but be reminded of how painfully naked Greyback was. His cheeks heated, embarrassingly enough, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull back. Greyback noticed and arched a brow at him.

“Something you want, pup?” When Harry’s cheeks only reddened further, the man gave him a lecherous grin that sent a thrill running up his spine.

Greyback leaned towards him and Harry’s breath hitched. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but he didn’t want it to end. His heart thundered in his chest with anticipation, so loud he was sure Greyback could hear it. But then the lock on their cell door clicked and Harry jerked. His mind cleared and he scrambled away from Greyback just as the door opened.

In swept Voldemort, followed closely by Harry’s torturer—when Voldemort wasn’t in the mood, that is—Ruldophus Lestrange. Harry shivered uncontrollably when the man’s gaze landed on him, a slow smile that promised pain spreading across his face. Voldemort let out a disappointed sigh, catching Harry’s attention only to find the Dark Lord staring at him with a frown.

“I had sorely hoped the mutt would kill you. But alas, it would seem that he was familiar enough with your scent to not kill you. No matter, now I can torture you more. Maybe even kill you myself.” Voldemort looked up with a thoughtful expression. “I won’t use the Killing Curse this time. No, I think I will slowly starve you and when you are at your weakest, I will force you to relive your worst memories as I torture you to death. Sounds good to you?”

Harry held in his fear and anger, choosing to simply glare at Voldemort from his position. He couldn’t say the same for Greyback, who shot up with a particularly loud growl.

“He is nothing but a child! Is such things necessary?” He snarled in disgust. “You are sick, Voldemort. Absolutely raving mad.”

Voldemort’s lip curled and snapped his wand at Greyback with a muttered a body binding spell. “Shut up, mutt. I’ll deal with you later.” He turned his bloody gaze back to Harry. “For now, you will have your own cell, Harry. A completely pitch black room, with no food, and no one to keep you company.”

With a snap of his fingers, Voldemort whirled way. Lestrange ambled forward, waving his wand to release Harry from his chain.  Before he could react, Lestrange picked Harry up, throwing the young raven over his shoulder. Harry, of course, struggled.   

“Let me go, you son of a bitch! You can’t fucking do this to me!” He pounded on Lestrange’s back and kicked his legs, hoping to connect with any party of the man’s anatomy. 

In his ranting, he happened to look up and catch Greyback looking after him with a desperately angry, expression, but unable to do nothing. The look made Harry freeze, looking after the wolf despondently until Lestrange turned and slammed the cell door solidly shut, sliding the lock bolt into place. He couldn’t work up the energy to return to his struggles, however, and sat passively on Lestrange’s shoulder as he was carried to his new cell.

Once he was thrown inside, Harry huffed out a sigh and checked out his surroundings. In his new cell, he had no chains, but he also had no little window, and the locks on his door were much more extensive. It was completely pitch black in the room, as if Harry had closed his eyes. Which would have been completely fine, before his improved eyesight, in which he couldn’t see much in the first place. Now it unnerved him considerably. With nothing to do, and feeling completely exhausted, Harry rolled onto his back and fell asleep. 

Alas, he was only able to get a moment of sleep when he was suddenly woke up in pain. His back arched up, his body unconsciously trying to get away from the pain. The sadly familiar pain of a Crucio riddled Harry’s body and he could do nothing more but open his mouth in a silent scream, tears of pain rushing down his face. But just as suddenly as the pain started, it ended, and Voldemort’s voice washed over him.

“How do you like your new room, Harry? I hope it suits your tastes. That’s all I wanted, you may return to your slumber.” The man left with a sadistic laugh.

Harry growled, curling into himself in an attempt to lessen the effects of the curse. He was aware of werewolves’ ability to negate magic, but painfully came to the realization that it probably didn’t apply to newly turned ones. Which was actually helpful to Harry’s case; the sooner he could keep his newfound transformation from Voldemort, the better. He’d seen Greyback coming from one of his beatings and it wasn’t a pretty sight.

At the thought of the werewolf, Harry let out a sigh. He was finally becoming closer to the man—more than likely because he was now also a werewolf—only just to get pulled away into a different cell. To be tortured further, completely secluded. He hoped Greyback wouldn’t also be tortured because of him. He really hoped Greyback would be able to escape and return to his pack. Even if he himself couldn’t do the same…

~oOo~

Harry suddenly shot up, eyes wide. He wasn’t sure what woke him up, but he was up and alert. Since he couldn’t see anyway, he closed his eyes and strained the rest of his senses, trying to identify what caused him to awaken. Then he heard it, a very faint noise, but still recognizable. A howl. But not just any howl. Greyback’s howl. Harry’s eyes snapped open and an unconscious grin spread across his face. He wasn’t sure how he knew it was Greyback’s; it was like an innate ability he developed.

A sudden urge to return the howl built up in his chest and he threw his head back, allowing the sound to rip from his throat, long and loud. A pause that lasted long enough to get his heart beating; then a responding howl.

The rest of the night was filled with loud, lonely howls. Harry couldn't explain the feeling, but he knew that it wasn't right that they weren't sharing the cell anymore. He knew that over the time they shared the cell, even though Fenrir denied it, they bonded. Especially after Harry was Turning, though the time together afterwards had been short.

By dawn, Fenrir and Harry had ended their howling and the young raven was fast asleep curled in a corner, a small smile stretching his lips. The door to his cell slowly creaked open and a nastily grinning Ruldophus Lestrange entered silently. He aimed his wand at an unsuspecting Harry and whispered a painful curse that mimicked the feeling of someone slowly ripping off Harry’s skin.

He woke with a choked scream, shooting straight into the air before crumpling back to the ground. His skin itself was fine, but the curse made it feel as it was really happening, sending images straight to Harry’s head of Lestrange slowly peeling off his skin strip by bloody strip. The spell lasted for thirty minutes, though to Harry it seemed like thirty pain-filled hours. When Lestrange finally released the spelled, Harry curled in on himself, sobbing brokenly. Lestrange curled his lip.

“So weak and petty.” He growled, stepping forward to kick Harry in the side, pulling a small shriek from the raven. “I do not see what Voldemort does in you. You are nothing. I do not understand his anxiety over you. It takes almost nothing to reduce you to this…blubbering, pathetic little shit you are now. Voldemort is doing nothing but bothering himself by torturing you like this, drawing out your death. If it was me, I would have killed you immediately in the most painful way I can think of.”

By that point, Harry had regained enough energy to slowly lift his head and glare at Lestrange. “Then it’s a good thing you’re not, right? That’s why you’re nothing more than a shitty ass lackey whose only use is to wipe the shit off Voldemort’s ass—.”

Lestrange cut him off with another cure, this time shouted in burning anger instead of whispered in sadistic glee. Harry screamed, his back arching off the ground and his hands scrabbling on the ground. The skin of his fingertips split, allowing his blood to spill out and mix with the dirt. Tears slipped from his closed eyes, trailing into his hairline and down his cheeks to join the mixture of blood and dirt on the ground.

It wasn’t until many hours later when Lestrange finally left the cell, leaving behind a broken and bleeding Harry exhausted on the ground. Slowly he rolled away from the pool of blood, sweat, and tears on the ground and curled into his side, gritting his teeth against pain. It was better than a Crucio at least; he would only be left with skin-deep scars instead of long-lasting muscle twitched that not even the most extensive treatment could fully rid him of. And it wasn’t like he didn’t already have multiple scars littering his body, so what would a few more make a difference of?  

If he could’ve, he would have snorted. It would have made a difference to Ginny. The first time she saw his scars—it was not even a third of the ones he had at the time, mind you—she freaked. Not because what caused the scars. Oh no, Ginerva Weasley was more concerned with that fact that Harry’s ‘supposed to be perfect’ skin was marred. That meant that she couldn’t gloat to all her friends that she had Harry’s perfect body all to herself. He frowned at the memory. Maybe it was then that he should have realized that she didn’t feel the same about him as he did her at the time. But he was too blinded by his own feelings to see that.

Harry, he thought to himself grimly, you are one pathetic piece of shit. Then he closed his eyes and fell into a fitful sleep.

A few hours later a soft, cool touch on his cheek woke him up. He opened his eyes to see the pale face of Draco Malfoy hovering over him, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to wipe the blood from Harry’s face as gently as possible with a soft cloth. Seeing Harry awake, Malfoy paused a moment before his eyes flashed and he continued to wipe at Harry’s face. The raven licked his lips.

“What are you doing?” He croaked.

Malfoy shot him a glare. “What does it look like I am doing, Potter?”

“Okay, stupid question—” He abruptly stopped, pushing Malfoy away and rolling onto his side to cough up a thick, mucus covered glob of blood.

Wrinkling his nose at the sight, Malfoy nonetheless reached out and gently pulled Harry’s face over to wipe the saliva and blood from his chin. Harry watched with warily shining eyes, trying to find even a small clue that hinted to more devious plans of Malfoy’s hidden behind the gentleness he was showing. Finding none and too tired to maintain his current position, Harry relaxed into the ground and allowed Malfoy to tend to him.

The slow rhythmic movements lulled Harry into a half-awake state, eyes heavy-lidded and drooping. He was so focused on trying to stay awake that he jumped, startled, when Malfoy spoke.

“Two hours.”

He blinked dazedly. “Huh?”

Malfoy scowled, but his movements were still gentle. He was done with Harry’s face and was now working on his arms and chest. “Be ready in two hours.”

“For what?”

“Why the hell does it matter? Just be ready in two hours.”

Harry frowned. “What, is Voldemort going to kill me or something?”

Malfoy growled and stood, dropping the cloth and whipping out his wand. Harry tensed, thinking that Malfoy was going to do the honors himself. Then he groaned and rolled over as Malfoy released a Scourgify on his body. It did its job of ridding Harry of all the dirt, blood, and sweat covering his body, but the magic was harsh on his wounds. He glared at Malfoy.

“Thanks.” He spat out.

“You are welcome.” Malfoy sneered.

The blonde stooped to grab the cloth from the floor and then swept from the room. Before the door closed, however, Harry could he him mutter something about ‘helping stupid fucking Gryffindors who didn’t know how to shut the fuck up and accept something’. He blinked and rolled over to face the door as it fully closed with a soft clock. He listened as all the locks were firmly set back in place and reclosed his eyes the ring of the last lock echoed into his cell.

He couldn’t explain it, but somehow he could tell that it was night. He wondered if Greyback was going to howl tonight again. After yesterday, he was excited to do it again. But as the time slowly ticked by, a frown slowly stretched his face and he sat up. The frown only deepened as he strained his senses. By now, Greyback would have started howling, if he was going to; it was around the same time he’d done it the day prior. Was Greyback okay? Or was he just not in the mood to do anything? Harry could recall the days when Greyback wanted silence in the room and he was quick to comply as he did not want the werewolf to start yelling at him; a lesson he learned the first time he defied Greyback.    

Without his notice, two hours passed. It was nearing early morning and all was silent. This was around the time the guards that used to bother Harry back when he stayed in the cell with Greyback would fall asleep. His head shot up when the locks to his cell door quickly unlocked and someone in a dark robe carrying a bundle of something entered. Harry held his breath and scooted into the furthest corner of his cell from the door. The dark-robed figure looked around for a moment.

“Potter?” A voice whispered. Harry eyes widened.  

“Malfoy?”

The figure whipped around, hood falling off with the action, and Harry was able to see Malfoy’s distinct features in the light from the hall outside his dorm. The blonde’s usually sharp features softened with relief at Harry’s voice and Malfoy took a cautious step towards him.

“Potter, come out that corner. I told you, two hours. You should have been ready.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Well, maybe I would have been if _someone_ had told me what the hell was going on.”

Malfoy sighed. “We can argue about this later, now come on.”

Hesitant and a little bit angry, Harry stood and stepped closer to Malfoy. He eyed the bundle in the blonde’s arms. “What’s that?”

“Here.” Malfoy shoved the bundle into his arms and unraveled it, revealing bread, hard cheese, and jerky. “It was all I could get without anyone noticing. The cloak is one of mine, so it will probably be a bit big on you, but warm at least.”

Harry blinked, looking up to meet Malfoy’s eyes. “This is for me?”

Grey eyes rolled. “No, it is for Merlin. Now hurry up and eat it.”

Not needing someone to tell him twice, Harry quickly stuffed his face with the food, but only ate half. The rest he rolled back up in the robe. Malfoy arched a brow.

“For Greyback.” Harry explained. Malfoy’s other eyebrow joined the first.

“Why him?”

“Because we’re going to help him to.” Harry said firmly.

Malfoy snorted. “The hell we are. I am not saving that crazy bastard.”

Harry frowned. “Fine.” He shoved the bundle back into Malfoy’s arms and turned away to sit against the wall. Malfoy followed him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not leaving here unless Greyback is coming with us. He helped me when we shared a cell and I’m not just going to leave without helping him.”

Malfoy gaped for a second, before his expression twisted with anger. “Fucking Gryffindor. Urgh! I don’t even know why I’m helping you.” He threw the bundle at Harry. “Fine, let’s get your stupid fucking mutt.”

Harry smiled and stood, holding the bundle close. “Thank you, Malfoy.”

“Whatever.” The blonde stormed from the room and Harry followed.

He had to wait a moment as Malfoy reset the locks, gaping at the complex intricacy the locks presented. Did Voldemort really believe he was so strong as to escape with no wand without a simple lock? The extensive measures he took in order to keep Harry in was flattering, but still a little too much.

When Malfoy was finally done, they quickly sped down the hallway, in the direction of Greyback’s cell. The smell of blood hit Harry before they reached the door and his eyes widened as his throat constricted against the stench. A glance at Malfoy revealed the blonde’s furrowed brow as the stench too hit him. Simultaneously they both sped up until they reached the door. It took a moment for Malfoy to undo the locks, and when he did they both rushed inside. Only to stop in shock and horror at what they saw.

Greyback was propped up against the wall directly across from the door, blood pooling around him from the untended wounds littering his body. It looked as if someone took a knife and beat him half to death with it. His face was a swollen mess; his lips split and bleeding, a long gash split his right eyebrow, and his jaw looked broken. He was still naked, so Harry could easily see the bruises and lacerations marring his arms, torso, and legs. One of his wrists was swollen and turning purple, probably broken, and the same to one of his ankle. His left leg was bent at the wrong angle, more than likely broken. He didn’t react when Harry stumbled forward, landing on his knees.

“Greyback?” The raven whispered, reaching forward with a badly trembling hand to gently touch Greyback’s bruised cheek.

The werewolf grunted at the touch and opened his eyes. They were nearly swollen shut and Harry wasn’t sure if Greyback could see. His own eyes burned and pricked with tears. He had no doubt that the reason Greyback was in this state was because the werewolf didn’t eat him during the full moon like Voldemort hoped he would. Harry licked his lips and tried again.

“Greyback, can you hear me? Don’t speak—just nod.” A slow, barely perceptible tilt of the head. Harry sighed in relief. “We’re going to get you out of here, okay? Just wait, I promise.”

He looked up when Malfoy stepped forward, face paler than usual with horror. “Potter, what…?”

“I don’t know.” Harry stood. “But we have to get him out of here. Now.”

Malfoy nodded. “He cannot walk, so we will have to carry him. You think he will make it through?”

“As long as we’re careful.”

“Of course.”

 


	3. Grimmauld Place

Getting Greyback out of the cell, locking said cell, and going down the hall was the relatively easy part. The hard part was getting past the guards just outside the hall and blocking their way out. Because his ankle and leg were both broken, Harry and Malfoy had to half-drag, half-carry Greyback. The poor werewolf was so far gone that he couldn’t even feel the pain, worrying Harry to no end. And they managed to seal up his bleeding wounds, to prevent a blood trail and to keep Greyback from bleeding to death, until they could get real medical help. But the problem was that Greyback’s limp body dragging across the floor made a considerable amount of noise, enough to surely wake the guards and alert them that something was amiss. Harry and Malfoy were forced to stop just before the hall turned straight into the guards and propped Greyback against the wall, quietly brainstorming ways to get around the guards without accidentally alerting anyone else.

“What if we put silencing and body binding charms on them and run like hell?”

“With Greyback with us?”

Harry bit his lip. “I’m assuming you can’t hold a spell long enough to get far away?”

“The time does not matter.” Malfoy crossed his arms. “It is the distance that will cause issues. I cannot hold a spell far enough to consider safe and it will be the same for you if you do both spells, even with your insurmountable magic levels.”

“Oh.” Harry ignored the gibe, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

A moment of silence passed where the two thought. It would have been so much easier if Greyback wasn’t a werewolf. Then they could’ve but a simple charm on him and went on their way. But werewolves were immune to most spells, the only known exception being the Unforgivables. Harry gnawed on his bottom lip. If there only was a way they could somehow use a silencing charm just on the part of Greyback’s body that touched the ground, so that the noise wouldn’t alert the guards. Or at least silence the surrounding area. Oh!

Harry’s head shot up and he grinned at Malfoy. The blonde arched a brow at him.

“Figured something out then, Potter?” Harry nodded excitedly.

“We put a silencing charm on the _floor_ under where Greyback’s body will drag. That way all that we’ll have to do is maintain the spell, keep a steady stream of magic.”

Malfoy considered it, his icy grey flicking between the ground, Greyback, and Harry. Then he sighed, digging into his pocket for his wand and handing it to Harry. He rolled his eyes when Harry looked at him with a blank expression.        

“I loathe to say it, but you are better suited at these types of spells than I could ever be. It would be better if you did it.”

Nodding slowly, Harry took the wand. “Okay. You think you can carry Greyback on your own? I won’t be able to concentrate doing both.”

“Yeah.”

As slim and effeminate as he seemed, Draco Malfoy was by no means weak. Years of not only playing Quidditch, but also enduring Voldemort’s sadistic pleasures, left Malfoy with ropes of strong, sinewy muscles lining a lithe body. It took but a bit of strain for him to lift Greyback onto his shoulders and the full dead weight of the werewolf only slowed him a little. A nod at Harry signaled the raven to begin the spell.

Aiming Malfoy’s wand at the ground, Harry whispered a quick “Muffliato.”

The ground lit up for a moment and Harry looked up and locked eyes with Malfoy. The blond arched a brow and nodded slowly. Keeping the wand aimed at the ground, Harry slowly started to move out of the hall and towards the guards, Malfoy following after him carefully. Greyback’s body trailing on the ground made no sound and Harry sighed in relief. Luckily the guards hadn’t woken up during their brainstorming, so all Harry had to do was walk in a path clear enough for Malfoy to follow with Greyback on his back.

Harry let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in once they reached the door across the room. Putting his ear against it, he couldn’t hear any noise coming from the other side, which meant that hopefully no guards were on the other side. Malfoy made a soft noise, catching his attention.   

“The way is clear until we get outside.” The blonde mouthed. Harry nodded. “Then there are more guards posted outside.”

By that point, it wouldn’t matter how loud they were. The Malfoy Manor, as that is where he was, had anti-apparation wards and so anyone trying to reach them had to do so by foot. If they were already outside, then all they had t do was get outside the gates, and therefore the wards, and apparate to another location. Voldemort wouldn’t be able to reach them within that time frame.

Making sure the spell was still working, Harry quickly opened the door and crept down the next hall. Every once in a while, Malfoy would make a soft sound, catching Harry’s attention and would mouth directions to the raven. Slowly but surely, they exited the dungeons where Harry and Greyback were being kept and out into the Malfoy house. Malfoy assured Harry that no one was patrolling throughout the halls and rooms, something Malfoy Senior adamantly refused to allow within his house, and they continued their trek.

No more problems arose until they reached the door. Harry abruptly froze and bit back a scream as his forehead suddenly exploded in burning pain. Voldemort was near, and he was angry. Harry crumpled to the ground, clutching his head and biting his lip hard enough to bleed so that his scream wouldn’t alert anyone to their position. He vaguely heard Malfoy whisper his name and turned to see the blonde gently easing Greyback to the floor. His vision slowly began to go black. The last he saw with his own eyes was Malfoy coming towards him.

Then he was suddenly in a different room, looking down at Wormtail cowering in front of him. He could smell the fear coming off of the small man and took a deep breath, relishing in the pungent stench. It took Harry only but a brief second to realize he was in Voldemort’s head, something he hadn’t felt in a while. He held down his initial panic, knowing that this time Voldemort didn’t purposely pull him in. Things would go very badly if Voldemort figured out Harry was in his head. Very bad. He held his breath and Voldemort stepped forward and rested a pale, long hand on Wormtail’s head. Said man whimpered softly but otherwise stayed still.

“Wormtail, my loyal subject.” Voldemort hissed.

“Y-yes, my lord?”

Voldemort’s hand suddenly tightened on Wormtail’s hair and he yanked the mousey man to the ground, brandishing his wand in one swift movement and hitting Wormtail with a Crucio. Harry winced involuntarily, not enough for Voldemort to notice, as he knew how it felt to suddenly be hit with the Unforgivable.

“You’ve failed me once again! How hard is it to find two scrawny Weasleys and a fuck up of a werewolf?! How am I supposed to finish off the Potter boy without them?! You are fucking up my plans, once again!”

Wormtail only screamed in pain. Voldemort scoffed and released the spell. He slowly stalked back to his seat and sat down with a sweep of his robes, crossing his legs and staring down at Wormtail expectantly. The animagus gasped in deep breaths, slowly crawling to his feet. Against his will, Harry felt a pang for the man. He knew how it felt to be subject to Voldemort’s sadistic tortures. He couldn’t imagine how it felt to be cowed by it for so many years. And because of it, he couldn’t understand why anyone would follow the madman. He watched as Wormtail finally pulled it together.

“My lord, I apologize. Searching for the Weasley twins and Lupin have proved futile, but everyone is actively searching. We’re led to believe they’re in a building under a Fidelus charm. I’m more than sure the Potter boy knows.”    

“Hmm.” Voldemort tapped his foot in thought. Then he stood. “Acceptable. Let us find out if Potter really does know.”

Harry gasped as he was suddenly pulled back into his own mind. It took him a second to gather his scattered thoughts and come back to his senses. Once he did, though, he gasped this time in shock.

Greyback was awake, for one, and had his arms wrapped around Harry. He could hear and feel the werewolf’s growl reverberate from a broad chest into his back, making his body vibrate. Harry blinked his eyes opened, realizing upon doing so that Greyback was growling at a surly looking Malfoy who was rubbing the back of his head. Neither noticed Harry was awake.

“Salazar, Greyback. All I was trying to do was wake him up. I wasn’t hurting him.”

“Bullshit.” Greyback rumbled, arms tightening around Harry. Too tight.

“Oi, you’re killing me.” Harry wriggled uncomfortable.

Two pairs of icy grey eyes, two different shades, looked down at him. He blinked at them, and then grimaced as a trail of blood suddenly slid down the side of his nose from his forehead.

“Dammit.” He reached up to wipe the blood away, only Greyback was faster.

The werewolf shot forward to lick the trail off Harry’s face, following it to his scar in which Greyback lapped at it gently. Harry scowled and futilely tried to bat Greyback’s face from his. The werewolf didn’t budge, or even notice, as his focus was on healing Harry’s open wound. Malfoy gaped at the two.

“What the hell?”

Harry scowled harder and pushed Greyback’s face away. The werewolf growled and Harry returned it, baring his teeth.

“I’m fine. Used to happen all the time.”

“Potter, what exactly happened?”

He turned back to Malfoy. “My scar is more than a souvenir from the time Voldemort—.” Malfoy flinched and Harry rolled his eyes. “— _Voldemort_ tried to kill me. It connects our minds and for whatever reason, I can all of a sudden be sucked into his mind. Usually when he feels a strong emotion, like anger or happiness. I become him, in a sense. It hasn’t happened in a while, but I’m fine.”

Greyback growled. “You were bleeding.”

Harry shrugged. “Just an aftereffect. My scar is what connects us and such powerful magic causes it to get irritated. Sometimes it just gets swollen, sometimes it bleeds. Nothing new.”

The werewolf did nothing more than growl and hold Harry tighter. The raven wiggled again with exasperation. Then he blinked and tensed up as his throbbing forehead reminded him of something.

“Oh, shit. We have to go. Like, now.” He tried to scramble from Greyback’s lap, growling in frustration when he couldn’t move.

Malfoy looked at him. “Well, usually I would agree…But you just woke up from some freaking shit and Greyback is moving around after being beaten half to death. I think you both need to rest a bit.”

“No!” Harry bit Greyback’s arm, jumping from the werewolf’s embrace when the arm instinctively jerked away. “We have to go _now._ Voldemort is on the way to my cell, right now.”

Greyback cut his hard glare off and stood up, albeit slowly. “What are you talking about?”

Harry growled. “We don’t have time! I’ll tell you later, now can we please _go?!”_

Malfoy shared a look with Greyback, arching his brow, before nodding slowly. “Okay. If you say you are fine, then I am inclined to believe you.”

The trio quickly went for the door. Malfoy halted Harry before the raven could reach for the doorknob, taking back his wand. The blonde did some complicated wand movements before the door clicked open.

“The door is triggered to set off an alarm for anyone who touched the knob. Safety precautions.” He explained at Harry’s curious look.

A guard was posted a few feet away, thankfully having not notice the door opening. Some guard duty. Malfoy dispatched him quickly with a stunner before waving them on. The blonde had to take the lead once again, now that Greyback was awake and could apparently walk on his own. Harry, however, kept one eye on him just in case the werewolf’s legs suddenly gave out or something.

They were almost to the gate, Harry could see the details on the intricate design—though that was probably more due to his newly enhanced sense over everything—when an alarm was suddenly raised. It wasn’t a sound alarm, but instead more like a wave of magic suddenly washed over Harry, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The only reason he knew it was the alarm was because Malfoy suddenly cursed and began to walk faster. The only reason why he wasn’t running was because he was taking in consideration the injured Greyback, which Harry was thankful for. He couldn’t explain, but he felt the need to protect Greyback at all costs in any way possible.

Another alarm sounded, this time more urgent. It would seem that Voldemort found Harry’s empty cell then. He grit his teeth and balled his fists as he fought against the waves of anger, definitely not his own, that washed over his body, and the blackness that threatened to take over his vision. Greyback noticed and growled lowly in support.

So focused on not getting sucked into Voldemort’s mind, Harry sucked in a sharp gasp as a rough hand suddenly grabbed his arm and jerked him to a stop. He blinked and looked up to see that they were already at the gate and Malfoy had his wand out, again doing complicated wand motions. His attention was taking when Greyback suddenly pulled him into a hard chest and nuzzled his nose into Harry’s neck. He blinked.

“Greyback, what are you doing?”

The werewolf grunted. “Dunno. Kinda going on my instincts right now. Feels like the right thing to do.”

“Done!” Malfoy shouted triumphantly, cutting off what Harry was about to say.

The gate creaked opened and the trio quickly made their way out. Harry shivered as he passed the wards, feeling the strong magic wash over him. He looked up in time to see the air shiver, a ripple in the shape of a half sphere covering the Manor. Another alarm, no doubt. Harry looked down, at Malfoy, who suddenly looked pensive. A thought hit Harry.

By helping them, Malfoy compromised himself. He couldn’t return to the Manor, lest he be instantly killed. The others had to have realized by now that Malfoy wasn’t there. Voldemort didn’t take too well to traitors and Harry knew as well as Malfoy did that Lucius Malfoy would not stand up against the Dark Lord to save his own son. Harry licked his lips and stepped towards Malfoy.

“Come with us, Malfoy.” Malfoy looked up, eyes flashing as he realized that Harry knew exactly what he was thinking.   

“Go with you?” He said softly. “I am the son of a Death Eater. Whether I saved you or not will be completely irrelevant in front of the so called ‘Light side’ and you can’t protect both me and Greyback.”

Harry’s eyes flashed and his face hardened with resolve. “Watch me.”

And before anyone could react, he grabbed both Malfoy’s and Greyback’s arms and apparated away.

~oOo~

Remus Lupin, to say the least, was having a very bad month. Harry was missing, the majority of the Weasleys bar the twins and Hermione Granger were dead, and Remus knew who exactly was behind it all. You Know Who. His wolf growled and he grit his teeth, resisting his more animalistic instincts to run out and find his cub. He would not succumb to his wolf; it was dangerous. He wished it wasn’t there. Every morning he woke up cursing Fenrir Greyback for making him this horrible, bloodthirsty creature.

This morning in particular, however, he was too tired to so his usual inner rant of the accursed werewolf. He missed Harry something terrible and the twins were no help. He glanced at the two, who were both pale and tense, and wondered what was going though their minds.

Fred and George watched on grimly as their youngest sibling and only sister was lowered into the ground. Ginny Weasley was the last of eight to be buried, after their mum and dad, and Ron and Hermione.

No one knew the truth of what happened. No one except for the Twins and Remus. The Twins had seen it up close and personal, when Voldemort appeared all of a sudden and took away their family. They felt guilty, because they were inside the house when it happened and therefore were not victimized. It was only bad luck that Bill, Charlie, _and_ Percy had all come to visit and wound up caught in the maelstrom.  

Remus had found out by default, only hours after Harry and the others were taken. The man had came in, tired and weary, to the sickly sweet smell of Voldemort and a lack of certain people that were supposed to be there. It took Fred and George an hour to calm the werewolf down enough to explain what happened. Remus was mortified and blamed it all on himself for not being there to help, feeling he same guilt eating up the Twins.

It wasn’t completely Harry’s fault that what happened, happened. He was only a victim, just the same as the others. They weren’t sure if everyone would agree with them. people so easily turned against Harry whenever he messed up that they Twins were terrified to find out what the public would do if they found this out. There was no need to involve the Ministry or the Aurors. They planned to go out and find Harry themselves, after everything settled down. Their only hope was that Harry wasn’t dead yet.

Fred reached out and grabbed George’s had as the Minister, Kingsley Shacklebot, and Tonks made their way towards them. George returned his hard grip with just as much force. They knew what the Minister was going to ask them, and they really weren’t in the mood. They’d just attended the funeral of eight people for Merlin’s sake. Remus growled low, his eyes flashing golden amber, and he stalked off, looking everything like a predator hunting his prey. He couldn’t completely hold back his wolf, not while Harry was missing.

Kingsley swallowed hard but otherwise smiled at the Twins. “Fred, George. It’s good to see you two.”

George glared. “Could you just get to the point, sir—?”

“We don’t mean to be rude but—”

“Today’s been a bit hard and—”

“We’re not in the mood.” Identical scowls spread across their faces and Kingsley nodded understandingly.

“With good reason. I don’t mean to be so blatant boys, but…well, as the Head Auror I have to do something and you’re the only ones who survived the ordeal. I’m not saying that you have to answer any questions today, but I will have to ask that you come into the Ministry, preferably to the Auror’s Department, to be questioned soon.”

The twins nodded and Kingsley hesitated. “And if you find out anything about Harry…” He gave them a meaningful look. They glared as he walked away, the grip on each other’s hands almost painfully tight.

Fred and George shared a look. They had to find Harry, and soon. ‘Cause eventually, someone was going to find out exactly what happened. And it wouldn’t be good for anyone.

It wasn’t until a full hour later when Remus finally returned to Grimmauld Place. He figured since the place was under a Fidelus that it would be the safest place to go. And if Harry somehow managed to escape before they could find him, then it would probably be the first place he would go. The Twins spent most of their time there, but they had decided to mourn for their family a while longer.

Once Remus opened the door, he beelined straight for the kitchen. This morning he hadn’t been able to stomach anything and now, much later in the early evening, he was starving. Remus had unspokenly became the designated chef whenever the Twins showed up—which was most of the time—as neither of them knew how to cook and Kreacher refused to even appear without Harry there yelling and cursing his mouth dry until the reluctant house elf showed up. As is, he was hungry and planned to do nothing more than to eat until they could no more. That is, until he saw who was sitting at the table, muttering darkly about unresponsive elves.

“Harry!” Remus shouted, rushing forward and scooping the raven into his arms. He ignored the way Harry’s body was a lot thinner than before—his ribs were starting to poke out again—or the way his muscles twitched.

“Remus!” Harry gasped out, hitting the werewolf on his shoulder. “Cut it out. Can’t breathe.”

A guttural growl immediately set Remus off, as he was already on edge, and he quickly pulled Harry behind him to bare his teeth at whoever issued the growl. Only to blink in shock at the sight of a half-beaten and tired Fenrir Greyback tense and ready to jump at him. Then his instinct rode over his initial shock and he growled, holding Harry close behind him. Greyback quickly stood, looking every inch as the feral beast he was even with the lacerations and bruises littering his body. The two were on the verge of pouncing each other when Harry intercepted, slipping past Remus to put a restraining hand on Greyback’s chest.

“Stop it, you two. Remus, please; Greyback’s not a threat. The same to you, Greyback.” He growled, much to Remus’ surprise, when Greyback didn’t back down. “Greyback!”

The werewolf, not taking his eyes off Remus, pulled Harry into his side. “He hurt you.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Not purposely. Merlin, he’s my godfather for shit’s sake! Calm down, would you.”

Greyback visibly forced himself to relax and let Harry go, returning to his chair. Remus, on the other hand, was not convinced and glared furiously at Greyback.

“Harry, why is Fenrir Greyback with you? Don’t you know he’s dangerous?”

“Remus…” Harry sighed. “He’s no more dangerous to me than you are. So please, calm down. It’s been a long day and I would rather just…sit here and just be. Merlin’s balls, I feel like passing out where I stand.”   

It was then that Remus paused and took in the sight of his young cub. Dark circles ringed Harry’s eyes that carried just a hint of a haunted shadow with them, his cheeks were gaunt, his skin was much paler than it used to be, he lost a considerable amount of weight, and his muscles kept having spasms at random intervals. Very few bruises littered his body, minus the strange, slightly big purplish red one on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and from what Remus could see there were no cuts on his body. His gaze softened and he bowed his head guiltily.

“Sorry, Harry. Your room is the same as it always is, so you can go straight there. Your…guest, however…”

At that moment, someone cleared their throat and Remus turned towards the sound. Then his eyebrows rose at the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting at the table with his legs crossed, glaring haughtily at him.

“That is plural, Lupin. I will also be staying here, along with Greyback.”

Remus turned to Harry, who shrugged. “He’s the one who helped us escaped. He can’t return to Malfoy Manor, or they’ll kill. I kind of forced him to come with us.”

“Indeed.” Malfoy sneered at Harry, who returned it with a glare.

“Okay.” Remus sighed and rubbed his temples where the beginnings of a headache crept up on him. “Usually, I would offer the guest rooms, but this house is old and all the rooms not used on a regular basis by us are dusty and carry creatures of unknown variety. Kreacher could take care of it but…” He glanced helplessly at Harry, who grimaced.

“Kreacher.” His grimace turned into a scowl when the elf did not appear. “Kreacher!” This time he growled, ignoring Malfoy’s snicker. “DAMMIT KREACHER IF YOU DON’T BRING YOUR FUCKING ASS HERE RIGHT NOW I SWEAR ON MORGANA’S TITS I WILL FUCKING FLOOD THAT LITTLE HELLHOLE YOU LIVE IN AND THROW AS MANY CLOTHES AT YOU AS POSSIBLE—.”

A loud pop interrupted him and the little ugly creature squinted up at him with a disdain expression. “Yell any louder, and you’ll wake Madam Black…Master.”

Harry’s eye twitched. “Kreacher, how many times do I have to call you until you respond?”

The elf shrugged. “Kreacher does not like Master Harry. Master Harry is a good for nothing half-blood. Kreacher does not take orders from half blood with happiness.”

“I don’t care. I own you so do as I fucking say!”

“Yes Master Harry.” His tone implied that he was only going to do the same as he usually did, which was either half-assed or not at all.

A sudden malicious grin split Harry’s face, surprising Remus. “Kreacher, I can’t believe you really acted in such a disrespectful manner in front of Draco Malfoy. Not only is he a pure blood, but he’s also a descendent of the Most Noble and Ancient Black House.” Harry tsked as Kreacher’s eyes widened. “Such a bad elf.”

Kreacher’s already pale face went lighter until it gained a sickly pallor as his gaze switched between the smirking Harry and Malfoy, who was trying and mostly failing to keep a straight face. “K-kreacher is so sorry, Master Harry. Kreacher will go punish himself now.”

That immediately made Harry’s smirk drop. “No, Kreacher, that’s unnecessary. I just need you to go make two of the guest rooms fit to sleep in. And also prepare dinner.”

The anxious elf nodded jerkily. “Yes, Master Harry.” with a pop, Kreacher was gone.

Harry relaxed immediately, sinking down into a chair beside Greyback wearily. Remus’ wolf howled with the urge to rip Harry from Greyback’s side, but he knew that he wouldn’t survive long in a fight against the beast of a man. Greyback wanted Harry for a reason, and Remus wanted to find out why, completely forgetting that Harry was tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep. He pulled up a chair and pinned his godson with a look. Harry, catching the look, groaned loudly.

“What is it, Remus?”

“How did you get involved with Greyback?” He began immediately, cutting straight to the chase.

Harry rolled his eyes. “We were locked in a cell together, for Merlin’s sake Remus. You’re acting like he brainwashed me or something.”

Remus shot Greyback a dark glare. For all he knew, that’s exactly what the man did. With a snort, Greyback leaned forward and grabbed Harry’s chin. Before Remus could react, the werewolf pulled Harry to his chest and lifted his head, baring his neck and the bruise on it for all to see. Harry did nothing more than shift uncomfortably, letting out a small whine as he pushed at Greyback’s face. The man ignored him, locking eyes with Remus.

“See this, boy? This is _my_ mark.” He grinned evilly. “You’re precious little Savior is one of us now.”

Remus’ hurt stopped beating for a moment. No, not Harry.

“Greyback.” Harry growled out.

Faster than anyone could see or react to, Harry somehow bit Greyback and slipped from the man’s grasp. Greyback growled at him, which Harry returned by baring his teeth.

“That’s the second time you’ve done that in less than an hour, pup.”  

Harry’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Then stop doing things that allow me to bite you.”

Greyback pointed a finger at him. “Keep defying me like you are and you’ll regret it.”

Fortunately, before Harry could retaliate with something that would definitely get him attacked—which meant that Remus would be forced to get involved—Kreacher reappeared with a loud pop. He looked up at Harry, a look of contempt passing his features for a brief moment.

“Master Harry, Kreacher has done as Master Harry asked. The rooms closest to the stairway are ready to use. Kreacher will go make dinner now.”

“Thank you, Kreacher.” Harry lost his glare and smiled at the elf, shocking him. “Can you wake me up if I fall asleep when dinner’s ready?”

Kreacher nodded jerkily. “Of course, Master Harry.” The elf disappeared.

Harry, shoulders now slumped with exhaustion, looked around the room. “Well, I guess I’m going to sleep now. Malfoy, Greyback, you guys can follow me to your rooms. Remus…we’ll talk later.”

The raven turned away and marched from the kitchen. A moment of hesitation, then Malfoy and Greyback hurried after him. Remus sighed and slumped in his chair, closing his eyes shut tightly. He could hear Kreacher banging around in the kitchen, muttering about this and that. Remus couldn’t believe Harry was back. He couldn’t believe his little cub was now a fucking werewolf. And he’d brought back the most notoriously known werewolf in all Wizarding Britain. Plus a Malfoy.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to tell Kingsley, should the Auror suddenly show up at the place.


	4. The Full Moon

Harry, Fenrir, and Draco stayed at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for nearly a month as Fenrir healed—having being beaten right after his transformation made his healing process drastically lower than usual—and wait until the full moon do that the werewolf could finally contact his pack. In fact, the next full moon was in two days. Fenrir was excited; he would be able to finally return to his pack, now that he wasn’t restricted by the wards surrounding the Manor. Harry was excited because it was his first transformation—though his eagerness was laced with anger as Remus kept trying to convince him to take Wolfsbane. Said man was surly and depressed because of the up and coming full moon. Draco either didn’t see the significance or just flat out didn’t care. And the Twins were just happy Harry was back.

He remembered when he saw them the next morning after escaping from the Manor. They were downstairs chatting with Remus when Harry came down. Both Fenrir and Draco were both still sleeping and, in the case of the former, probably wouldn’t be coming down for a while. Fred was going on about some new prank invention they were in the middle of creating with a grin, though it looked forced, and George wasn’t even trying, instead picking at his food with a depressed air. Remus was trying to stay upbeat, but his smile kept slipping into a frown. Probably because his thoughts kept slipping back to Fenrir sleeping peacefully upstairs. Harry scowled for a moment before slapping on a smile and sliding into a room.

Seeing him, the Twins immediately brightened and it was like he was never gone. Until Draco came downstairs, eyes only half open and his hair sticking up in cute little tufts. He obviously no longer cared about his appearance, as it no longer mattered as much since his father was probably going to disown him for betraying the Dark Lord. The Twins were a bit stiff, until Harry explained what Draco did, and then they were just as happy to see him just as they were Harry. Harry was in the mood to make breakfast, which he had began to do immediately after pulling away from George’s smothering, ignoring the protests of the others who claimed he looked too tired.

The smell of bacon woke Fenrir and the werewolf came downstairs with his eyes closed and his nose in the air. The Twins jaws dropped and they scrambled away immediately. Fenrir ignored them, still following his nose until he bumped into Harry. Then he proceeded to whine and repeatedly bump into Harry until the raven growled and snapped at him to sit down and wait like everyone else. Apparently Fenrir channeled his inner child in the mornings and did as Harry said with a pout. The image stuck and no matter how Fenrir tried to redeem himself, the Twins could no longer see him as a dangerous guy who killed people who looked at him wrong.

Harry wasn’t sure when he began to call Fenrir and Draco by their first names. One day he woke up and came to the realization that that was what he was doing. Draco did the same, unless he caught himself and in those cases he would proceed to growl and force himself to refer to Harry by his last name, scowling whenever Harry called him Draco. Fenrir, on the other hand, never had that problem as he always called Harry ‘pup’, and was actually content with Harry calling him by his first name as Harry was a part of his pack. Before, the werewolf used to grunt at him, but Harry quickly put an end to that by screeching at Fenrir for an hour, louder than Sirius’ mother ever could, when he was grunted at one too many times. Fenrir knew when to pick his battles and that was one, though he won’t ever willingly admit, he wasn’t going to fight.

Soon after that, Grimmauld Place fell under a guise of peace. The only one disturbed in the household was Remus, who avoided Fenrir something nasty and was trying to convince Harry to do the same. Harry couldn’t understand why his godfather was so hellbent on believing Fenrir was a bad guy—though he kind of was, Harry was well aware of what Fenrir was capable of—and that Harry was going to end just as bad if he kept hanging around the man. Harry did know that Remus was scarred from being turned into a werewolf at such a young age, but he and Fenrir both tried to explain to Remus exactly why he was turned so young. The werewolf was firm on his beliefs, however, and would listen to neither of them, even when Fenrir went Alpha on him. And then there was the issue with the Wolfsbane.

Harry also knew when to pick his battles and when he saw Fenrir’s expression when Remus brought Wolfsbane up, he knew that he was going to agree with whatever Fenrir said, no matter what Remus argued. A good thing he did to, because Fenrir looked ready to kill Remus over the potion. He claimed it was poison, slowly killing him, both mind and body. Remus scoffed at him, saying that he took the potion in order to control his wolf. At that, Fenrir completely lost it.

He destroyed nearly half of downstairs trying to get to Remus before Harry had managed to calm him down. It was indirect, however, as Harry had managed to get cut on an errant piece of splintered wood from a broken chair and, upon smelling it, Fenrir immediately calmed down to lick at Harry’s wound, no matter how superficial it was. Then he sulked off to his room, where Harry later found and questioned him on his reaction. Fenrir looked at him funny.    

“Pup, Wolfsbane is literally poison for us, just like silver. In its purest form as a plant, a single leaf of Wolfsbane can kill a full grown Alpha in under an hour. I’m surprised Lupin hasn’t yet died from all the potions he’s been taking. No wonder he’s so terrified of the full moon; his transformation must be painful. He’s not only resisting himself, which is probably doing numbers on his wolf half, but also that potion is killing him. His wolf half must be utterly delirious with pain and sickness. We have to get him off that stuff and get him some help.” Fenrir growled, shooting Harry a glare.

Harry blinked. “What?”

“Take that shit, pup, and I swear—.”

“I won’t take it, shit Fenrir.” Harry rolled his eyes as Fenrir pulled him into an embrace, ignoring his assurance. “Stop being such a worry wart.”

“I’m not a fucking worry wart.”

He snorted. “Could’ve fooled me.”

And with the help of the Twins, once Harry explained to them what the potion was doing, they managed to find Remus’ supply of Wolfsbane and dispose of all of it before it was time for the man to begin to take them. Once Remus found out, he nearly went on a rampage. It was like watching a man go through withdrawal. It took him week to finally calm down and accept that fact that he wasn’t going to get his potion. Nor was Harry going to allow him to lock himself up during the full moon, which after taking a calming draught, he didn’t react nearly as badly to. Seeing his resigned acceptance, making his face look rather haggard, hurt Harry’s heart but it was needed in order to save the man. 

Now it was the day of the full moon and not even Remus’ sour mood damper Harry’s excitement. He trailed after Fenrir all day—something he sometimes did unconsciously—humming happily. It wasn’t until the Twins came by later in the day, before dinner, was Harry distracted. They noticed Fenrir’s exasperation and proceed to lure Harry to them with the promise of a game of Exploding Snap and also to show him their latest additions to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezys.  

“So when you wave your wand like this—see Harry—colorful sticky string will come out. And it won’t come off for a whole hour—.”

“Except if the person tried to take it off themselves, then another ten minutes will be added on automatically—.”

“It took us forever to get this to work, you know.”

Harry nodded, trying out the spell himself. “Can you use it for other things?”

Fred arched a brow and leered at him. “Oh? What did you have in mind, Harry?”

Not catching on at first, Harry looked at him strangely. Then realization dawned on his face and his cheeks flamed. “No! I just wanted to know you could use it for decorations or something! Like for a birthday or Christmas!”

George blinked, then nodded slowly. “That doesn’t seem like a bad idea—.”

“Thanks Harry.”

“No problem.” Harry smiled at them before returning to his wand-waving as he tried out the spell. Then he caught sight of Fenrir.

The man was walking by, glaring at nothing in particular, which to Harry was no different than usual at first, until he noticed the accompanying scowl twisting the werewolf’s lips and the stormy mood surrounding him. He jumped up immediately—Fred and George’s attempts to distract him now failing—and trotted after Fenrir, who was on his way upstairs. With his long legs, Fenrir could take two stairs at a time no problem, while Harry’s much shorter legs was restricted to one, meaning that Fenrir reached the top long before he did and was ambling off towards his room.

“Fenrir! Wait!”

Fenrir turned and, noticing it was Harry, scowled and kept going. Harry growled and began to run up the stairs, only just managing to catch the door before Fenrir slammed it shut. He slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him, and carefully made his way over to Fenrir. The dark brunette was sitting on his bed, glaring at the wall opposite to him and muttering angrily about something. Harry crept closer and sat beside him on the bed, leaning in so that he could look into Fenrir’s face, their shoulders touching.

“Fenrir?”

“What?!” The man growled loudly, pinning Harry under a hard, icy glare.

Harry flinched, but his jaw was set with determination. “What’s the matter with you? Why are you walking around here like someone shoved a dead cat up your ass?”

“Shoved a dead cat up my ass?” Fenrir looked at Harry incredulously. “Why would you—no, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“So-o?” Harry scooted closer, nearly sitting in Fenrir’s lap, which he learned a while ago seemed to annoy the man. “What’s the matter?”

For a moment, Fenrir was silent. Harry could see his jaw shift, the muscle rolling under his skin, which usually meant the man was thinking. So he waited patiently, knowing Fenrir would eventually tell him, one way or another. It was so long, however, that he was beginning to zone out in the silence. He jumped when Fenrir spoke, nearly falling to the floor.

“That godfather of yours…why’s he so bent on denying his other half?”

Harry blinked and looked up at Fenrir, who looked genuinely confused. “Well…he grew up around no one but bigoted wizards who were completely against anything ‘non-Light’. For Remus, being turned so young, meant that it was a lot easier for him to absorb what the others were saying—that he was a monster and shouldn’t be allowed in society. To make matters worse, everyone knew he was turned by you, who is only known as a psycho-crazy murder by the wizards. To a young Remus, it must have been hard trying to live with his family who was afraid of him. So…he did everything in his power to repress that side. That habit has…apparently co0ntinued as he grew older.” He finished quietly.

“And what about you?”

“Me?”

Fenrir grunted. “Yeah, you grew up with the same bigoted wizards, and yet…”

“Oh.” Harry smiled grimly. “Funny story really. I didn’t actually grow up here; I was raised by my Muggle aunt and uncle. I told you about them already—I was treated like completely shit by them because I was a wizard.?

“What?” Fenrir grabbed him by the arms and lifted him so that they were face to face. “I thought you were just saying all that crap to get me to talk.”

Harry snorted. “I wish it was a lie. I think that I’ve been able to accept what I am even after spending majority of my life believing that being a wizard made me low dirty scum because I’ve had people show me just how great being a wizard is. How awesome magic is. Maybe that’s all Remus needs. Someone to show him that werewolves aren’t mindless killers and are actually so much more.”

“Fuck Remus.” Fenrir growled, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Who the fuck are the Muggles who hurt you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His breath hitched as Fenrir’s grip on him tightened. “It doesn’t, Fenrir.”

Fenrir snarled. “The fuck it doesn’t. You were nothing but a kid. Now tell me their names or so help me, Harry—”

“You’re hurting me!” Harry growled out, pulling on Fenrir’s fingers. 

Then he gasped as he was suddenly let go, dropping to the floor. He looked up to see Fenrir standing above him, nostrils flared and jaw clenched. The man was pissed, Harry could tell that much, but he wasn’t sure who exactly the anger was directed at. Taking a guess, he slowly stood and stepped closer to Fenrir, wrapping his arms around the werewolf’s torso, pressing a cheek on his hard chest. He received no reaction.

“Fenrir? Had it been anyone else, I would tell you in a heartbeat. But they are still my family, no matter what they did to me, and I know your anger. I know what you would have done. What’s done is done, and I’d rather not go down memory lane. So—.”

He abruptly stopped when a large hand landed on his head. Fenrir didn’t say anything, just pressed Harry’s head harder into his chest, letting his fingers tangle in Harry’s messy hair. In turn, Harry held his breath, choosing to wait until Fenrir was ready to talk. He wouldn’t be able to get the man to do so any other way. When Fenrir took a deep breath, he bit his lip and tried to look up. The man’s face was hard, but when he looked down at Harry, his eyes were soft.  

“I get it, pup. And I…didn’t mean to push you like that.”

Knowing that was the best apology he was going to get, Harry grinned. “It’s fine. The full moon is close so I know you’re a bit more grumpy than you usually are. You got mad at me last time too, when I called you Mr. Grumpy pants.”

Fenrir growled. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

Harry grinned up at him cheekily. “Okay Ser Grumps-A-Lot.”

The growl Fenrir let out had Harry giggling like a little kid. His laughter came to an abrupt end when Fenrir shifted, grabbing his arm and pulling it close for inspection. The werewolf grunted and began, as he always did, to gently run his tongue over the faint bruises forming on Harry’s skin. In Harry’s opinion, the bruises weren’t even really that bad, they certainly didn’t hurt any more, and didn’t need Fenrir’s attention. But he was knew how meticulous the man was about his physical health, though he wasn’t quite sure why, and definitely knew better than to complain about it. Last time he did, he got a scowl and a clip on his ear.    

~oOo~

The sun was now set and Harry’s initial excitement was now replaced with nervousness as he waited for the moon to appear. He remembered a piece of his conversation with Fenrir from so long ago. Merlin, an entire month ago.

_“…I ain’t gonna let you die so soon after being a wolf for the first time. Shit, imagine not ever going through your first change. Bloody hell.”_

_“Does it…hurt?”_

_A laugh. “Does it hurt? Of course it fucking hurts! The first time is going to hurt like a bitch, but it gets easier and less painful. Stop worrying like a little bitch.”_

Harry shivered as he looked out the window. After all he went through, taking pain wasn’t much for him, but that didn’t mean he wanted to have to feel it. He spent majority of his life in pain; now, he was sick of it all. At least this time, this pain, had good results. He would be a werewolf, for the very first time.

He looked up from his position, curled in a comfy armchair beside the window, when he heard light footsteps approach. At first he thought it was Draco, but he was no less surprised to see that it was Fenrir. The man was impossibly quiet for his size, an apparent trait in werewolves, it would seem, as Remus was the same. Fenrir stopped in front of him, hand held out; his expression was impassive, cold even, but his eyes were swirling in excitement.

“Up, pup.” He grunted. “Time to go out. Moon’s about to rise.”

Only hesitating for less than a second, Harry grabbed Fenrir’s hand and allowed the man to lift him from his seat. The two headed for the kitchen, and from there the back door and outside. The kitchen was where they found Remus, hunched over himself as he stared, his eyes a bit haunted, out the window. Draco was also in there, staring at Remus as he chewed on an apple. Fenrir sighed and hauled Remus from his chair with hardly a grunt.

“Come on, you pitiful little shit. It’s only gonna hurt more if the moon doesn’t hit you directly.” He snorted at Remus’ surprised expression. “Didn’t know that didja? Kept yourself locked up in some cage, hidden from the moon, hurting yourself more without even realizing it. You’re ridiculous.” He then proceeded to drag Remus outside and throw him on the ground a few meters away.

Harry followed them at a slower pace, a small grin now gracing his lips. To him, it seemed as if Fenrir had gone just a bit lighter on his scorn towards Remus. Which meant that the man had went and took Harry’s advice. That made Harry happy to learn that Fenrir was going to at least give Remus a chance, and there was an evident bounce in his step when he approached the two. Fenrir shot him a questioning look, which he ignored in turn for plopping down next to Remus, close enough that their shoulders pressed together. He also ignored the scathing glare Fenrir gave him.

The look Remus gave him was wretched. “It’s my first time without Wolfsbane since my first change.”

“I know.”

“I’m scared, Harry.”

“I know.”

“What if I kill someone?”

Harry turned to face Remus. “You won’t. It’s not like that, Remus, not at all. Your wolf only acts the way he does because he’s alone. If you accepted him into yourself, accept the fact that he is _you,_ then everything is so much better. The way humans portray us is fucked up and only taken from what they seen from rogue wolves. In that sense, we are the same. There are good wolves and bad wolves, just as there are good humans and bad humans.”

“But Harry…”

“Don’t worry, Remus. It’ll be fine, I’m sure. I mean, I was locked in a cell with Fenrir when he changed, and I’m completely fine.” 

Remus growled, his pitiable expression shifting to one of anger. “No, you’re a werewolf now.”

“And that’s not better than me being dead?” Harry stood and glared down at his godfather, his mood switching easily with the approaching transformation. “Because that’s what I’d be if Fenrir didn’t change me. Not because he would’ve eaten me or something stupid like that, but because Voldemort would have killed me. Is that what you want, Remus?”

He huffed away before Remus could respond. Fenrir had been ignoring them, instead crouching on the ground and staring expectantly up at the darkening sky. Harry joined him, curling a bit into his side. He was expecting the man to push him away and was pleasantly surprised when Fenrir only shifted to accommodate Harry’s weight leaning on him. 

“That sounded like it didn’t go too well.”

“I didn’t know you were listening.”

A shrug. “I wasn’t.”

Harry chuckled. Then Fenrir tensed, causing him to look up. His eyes widened as the brilliance of the moon peeked over the horizon. When the first moon beam hit the ground, Harry could feel the change within himself. He could feel the soul of his wolf rising to meet and merge with his own. It was a wonderful feeling and Harry gasped in delight. He heard Fenrir’s own pleased noise, and another—more surprised one—coming from behind him. But then the pain came.

It was only natural, as shifting bones, muscles and organs should be, and Harry knew it was coming but it was unexpected after the feeling from merging his soul with his wolf’s. His gasp this time was painful and cut short as he fell forward on hands and knees; his skin shifting and growing darker with coarse hair. He could feel Fenrir’s heavy weight pushing against his side, a silent sign of support even as the man himself went through similar pangs. There was a pained whine, behind him, louder than even his own. He had no time to react, as another spark of blinding pain passed through him.

His fingers looked twisted and gruesome as he dug them into the soft dirt in pain. His spine cracked and popped and suddenly he jacked up, his back arching into the air at an inhuman angle. His face morphed, nose and mouth elongating into a muzzle. He could feel each and every one of his organs shift, all his bones crack and change, his skin stretching and fur growing.

The process was extremely painful and yet Harry didn’t, couldn’t, make another sound. He took all the pain as part of his punishment. Even if he no longer liked them, he still killed many people—a family. His family, his friends, once upon a time. Maybe one day he would grow to not care anymore—he was already half way there—but for now he felt as if the pain was his atonement. It soothed his raging heart. His back jack-knifed again and this time he let out a growl, low and inhuman. When he relaxed again, everything was different.

Black fur, soft and sleek, covered his body. He was smaller, much smaller than before, and his body would have been considered lithe if he weren’t so malnourished. His eyes were the same though, still a vibrant green. His legs were long, his body narrow, his muscles smooth—the physique of a runner. Long sharp teeth, razor sharp nails, and a tail completed his new physical repertoire.

A rough tongue licked his muzzle, causing him to look up. When he saw a dark grey wolf—Fenrir—towering over him, he realized that he was lying in the dirt and immediately jumped into a standing position. Only for his knees to buckle and he wobbled to the side. Fenrir caught him before he hit the ground, nosing him in the side until he could stand on his own without his legs shaking. He looked up at Fenrir, wanting to scowl when he realized the man was still towering over him. Then a feeling of elation went through him—he was a wolf! The pain wasn’t even as bad as he thought it would be and it was completely worth it.

Then a rough whine behind him cut of his happiness. Remus! He carefully turned around and trotted over to the man-turned-wolf. Remus’ fur was a soft, sandy brown, the same as his hair when in his human form. Harry marveled at the huge form of his godfather—he was only able to see him from distances, never so close. He wasn’t quite as big as Fenrir, but Harry was sure that if Remus stood, the man would also tower over him.

He leaned forward to nudge Remus with his nose, letting out a soft whine of his own. Remus didn’t move, just eyed him. Doing it again the same way got no reaction. Harry did it again, harder and with a growl, and finally got a reaction. So fast Harry couldn’t react in time, Remus shot forward with a snarl and bit Harry. He whined and jerked away from Remus, dancing back. Without realizing what he was doing, he sent out a distressed sound with his mind:

_“Fenrir!”_

Reacting immediately to Harry’s call, Fenrir rushed forward with his own snarl, his more deeper and menacing, and clamped his teeth on the back of Remus’ neck. He was much larger than Remus, but after spending so long in a cell with the bare minimum about of food to survive left him weaker than he usually would be. Remus let out a growl and bucked up, trying to dislodge Fenrir’s hold. Harry danced in place, not knowing what to do.

Fenrir looked up, straight at Harry. The raven immediately stopped fidgeting when he met icy blues eyes. There was nothing but cool determination in Fenrir’s gaze, stamping down Harry’s initial panic.

_“Pup. House. Now.”_

Harry couldn’t disobey the orders even if he wanted to. He immediately turned tail and bolted for the house. It was fortunate that, so immersed in his thoughts, he forgot the close the door. As is, he zoomed in and nearly crashed into a counter. There was a snicker and his head shot up as his hackles automatically rose. Then he relaxed as he recognized the scent before he even recognized the face. Draco. The blonde was sitting in the chain Remus had vacated not but a few minutes ago. Harry assumed he was watching their transformations. Made him wonder how it looked to someone not going through it themselves.

He slowly trotted over to Draco, not wanting to startle the blonde, and plopped down on his bum beside the chair. Draco looked down at him with an arched brow, the remnants of his laughter earlier now showing on his face with a small curve of his lips. Harry scooted a bit closer and bumped his head against Draco’s hand. The blonde understood what he wanted and he began to rub his hand through Harry’s ruff, his expression thoughtful. He looked out the window, at the brawling wolves.

“I wonder who will win. They are fighting due to Lupin’s reluctance, I presume?”

Harry’s tongue lolled out in a wolfish grin as his head jerked forward in a nodded. Draco, not noticing the movement as he was still focused on the ongoing fight—something Harry did not nor did he want to see—continued to speak.

“Greyback’s going to win, I am sure. He is one vicious fuck.” He looked down when Harry nipped on his hand. “Well, what do you expect me to believe, Harry? He was nearly dead when we found him and not but a month later he is completely healed—fighting even.”

Unable to explain, Harry simply glared at him. Draco rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“It is not like I believe those preposterous rumors about him. Not after what I have seen this past month. And I think I might just be digging a deeper hole for myself, aren’t I?”

A single nod answered his question, the movement somehow dangerous. Draco huffed, turning his gaze back to the fight outside.

“You do not have to be so prissy about it. What is going on between you and Greyback anyway? Half the time the two of you are yelling at each other and the other half you are following him around while he ignores you and—oh, look. Greyback seems to have won.”

Harry’s ears perked up and he slipped from under Draco’s hand to trot for the door. He stopped immediately, seeing Fenrir towering triumphantly over a slumped over and panting Remus. Then his legs moved on their own accord and he was across the yard, stooping down to sniff over Remus. He whined gently and began to lap at his godfather’s wounds, ignoring the grumbling and shifting. They were superficial, but long. Fenrir really did a number on him. Harry huffed at said man when Fenrir tried to nudge him away. Fenrir responded by nipping at his ear.

“ _He’ll be fine. If you flutter over him like a mother hen, it’ll disgrace not only him, but me.”_

_“He’s hurt—.”_

_“By his own right. Leave him be, pup.”_

With one more whine, Harry backed off of Remus. The sand-colored wolf relaxed in the dirt, resting his head on his paws and closing his eyes. Fenrir nosed Harry until the raven backed a couple of steps further. Then he turned away and sat down. Harry, now curious, turned his attention from Remus to Fenrir and joined the man. There was a moment of silence and then—

“Awooooooooo!”

A long, continuous howl. It made Harry jump. The only time he heard a howl was from afar, and now being right beside the howling Fenrir made him realize just exactly how loud a howl was. He was going to join, until some deep instinctual urge from within him prevented him from doing so. It was the Alpha’s Call. Fenrir was howling for the rest of his pack, beckoning them to join him. So Harry sat and waited until Fenrir was done. And as he waited, he thought. By the time Fenrir finished, he was panicking. 

_“Fenrir, how are they going to find number twelve? It’s under a Fidelus charm!”_

The dark grey wolf snorted. “ _They’ll find it. Don’t worry. Depending on where they’re at, they’ll be here later tonight or early tomorrow morning. For now, let’s go inside.”_ He grunted disapprovingly. _“No forest to hunt in.”_

Harry followed dutifully as Fenrir urged Remus up and made his way into the house. “ _When the rest of the pack joins us, we’ll be going to—…where are we going?”_

Fenrir glanced back at him. “ _Our old place has been compromised, so I’m sure the pack has found a place. If not, then they’ve been on the move—camping out at night in clear areas to sleep. Should that be the case, then it’ll be up to me to find us somewhere to live.”_

_“…Okay…”_

~oOo~

The pack didn’t come at any time that night. Nor were they there in the morning when Harry woke up. He even went as far as to check outside to see if they were stuck by the charm. It was clear.

Fenrir was on edge. Though he didn’t say it, he was worried about his pack. Harry could see it in the tension of his shoulders, the way he paced through the halls. And he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to help Fenrir, but knew that the man wouldn’t accept it. Besides, he didn’t even know how to help. So he cooked instead.

It became natural for him to wake up before everyone else and begin to make breakfast that no one questioned it. Not even when he kept going, making more breakfast food than necessary, and from there moving on to desserts. That’s when everyone—save Fenrir, who was immersed in his own thoughts—began to question Harry’s motives.

“No, nothing. I just—I need something to do. Fenrir’s worrying me and I can’t do anything about it…but this.”

When it was Remus, the man pursed his lips and walked away. When it was Draco, the blonde pinned Harry with a glare and put his hands on his hips.

“Well, you’re going to waste all the food cooking everything. No one can eat all of this, Harry! If you need something to do, come flying with me. I know you still have your Firebolt, and your old Nimbus 2000.”

Harry hesitated, then nodded. He dusted his hands off on his apron before taking it off and hanging it on the hook beside the stove.  “I do still have both. Let’s go fly.”

A whole hour passed without Harry’s notice. Flying felt great and his worries eased away. It was so long since he flew that it was like a breath of fresh air. He and Draco raced, or challenged each other to do the most dangerous maneuvers. The hour passed and when he felt an interruption in the wards was when he finally blinked and remembered where he was. He and Draco shared a look and landed immediately. They both took off towards the front door, meeting Remus on the way.

“It’s not the Twins, they would’ve came through the Floo. Were you expecting anyone, Remus?”

The werewolf shook his head. He looked miserable, with dark circles around his eyes and his skin pale and covered in thin scratches and bites. But he definitely looked better than how he usually looked after a transformation. Harry was sure it was because he didn’t take that filthy poison, Wolfsbane.

Fenrir walked up, feigning nonchalance with his hands in his pockets and his eyebrow arched. “No one gonna get that?”

Just then the doorbell rang. Harry cut off his glare on Fenrir to answer it. A man stood there, with a friendly grin. He was tall, maybe Remus’ height, but broader in the shoulders and chest, like Fenrir. His eyes were warm brown, and his hair was short and light, sun-bleached brown. There were laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. He was also a werewolf, as far as Harry could tell.

“Hello. Um, I’m Lance—.”

“Where’re the others?” Harry leaned out, looking around.

Lance blinked. “Excuse me?”

Harry snorted, ignoring him in favor of looking back inside. “You gotta be shitting be, Fenrir! There’s only one other person in your pack?”

Fenrir grunted and Harry moved over to let the man access to look out the door. He ignored Lance’s gaping face, also looking around. When he noted the lack of pack members, he pinned Lance with a glare.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Somewhere safe.” Lance stopped gaping, but appeared otherwise unaffected by Fenrir’s glare. “What the hell, Fenrir?”

“Get inside. I’ll explain.”


	5. A Few Problems

Voldemort paced through the room, his cloak flaring angrily behind him. The flames of the candles lining the walls guttered as Voldemort’s anger caused his magic to lash out. His Deatheaters surrounded him, silently awaiting his orders. The only exceptions were Bellatrix Lestrange, who wasn’t wearing her mask and was dancing in place, and Wormtail, who also didn’t have on his mask and was on the ground whimpering quietly. Voldemort suddenly whirled around and hit a random Deatheater with a Crucio.

“How?!” He roared. “How the hell did he escape? What the fuck were you all doing?! Answer me!”

Bellatrix clapped her hands and laughed. “Ask Lucius, my lord. He should know.”

“Lucius?” He said softly. Lucius stiffened as the Dark Lord’s bright red eyes turned on him.

“Yes, my lord?”                   

“What does Bellatrix speak of?”

“His son is MIA, my lord, ask him.” Bellatrix giggled madly. Voldemort ignored her, not taking his eyes off of Lucius.

The blonde swallowed. “Draco is indeed missing, my lord. I suspect that he has…aided in the escape of the Potter boy, sir.”

“Really?” Voldemort stepped in front of Lucius, caressing the blonde’s mask with his wand with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “And why, pray tell, would he do something like that Lucius?”

“I do not know, my lord. Draco and I have not been on speaking terms these past few months, as we have not agreed on certain views.”

“Would these…views of his have anything to do with the treatment of Harry Potter?” The Dark Lord hissed. 

“…Yes, my lord.”

“Hmm…” Voldemort turned away contemplatively.

The room once again was silent. The Dark Lord slowly walked a short distance away, his expression thoughtful. Suddenly, a nasty grin stretched his bloodless lips and he whirled around, pulling out his wand and aiming it at Lucius in one fluid motion. The blonde only had time to widen his eyes in surprise and foreboding fear if what was about to come before Voldemort whispered gleefully two words that meant inevitable death.

“Avada…Kedavra.”

A green flash, and the sound of a body falling to the ground accompanied by Bellatrix’s hysterical laughter and clapping.

Harry woke with a gasp, arms and legs flailing in the blanket cocoon he’d created in his sleep. A thin layer of sweat slicked his skin, causing his hair and clothes to obnoxiously stick to his skin. His scar pulsed and burned, and a thin line of blood made its way down his face, smearing with the sweat on his brow. Bile rose in his throat, and he only had a moments warning before he spewed chunks over the side of his bed. Afterwards, he rested his cheek on the edge of the bed, closing his eyes and trying to catch his breath without inhaling the acrid smell of puke too much. He could barely move, let alone reach forward to grab his wand and banish the throw up,, or even do magic in general. 

He shuddered violently. Lucius Malfoy was dead. Killed by Voldemort. Because Draco had decided to help him escape. Oh Merlin, what was he going to tell the blonde? How would Draco react? Harry knew Draco didn’t have a good relationship with his father, but it was still his father no less. He would be heatbroken. And what would happen to his mother now that she had neither Draco nor Lucius there to keep Voldemort away? Oh, Merlin—

Eyes watering, Harry barely had enough time to shakily sit up before he was throwing up again. His throat burned as nothing but acidic bile came out. He already up-chucked the meager amount of food he’d eaten last night, and now there was nothing in his stomach but acidic fluids. Tears washed down his face as his stomach curdled painfully and the stench of his waste burned his nose and throat. He flopped back down bonelessly on his bed with a painful groan. Feeling pitiful and hoping no one came in, Harry weakly curled into himself with a shuddering sob. The flash of green light played in a loop in his mind, a continuous self torture that he could not stop.

When the door to his room burst open moments later—when it really seemed like hours—he was partially relieved as it caused the end of the loop. Otherwise, he was horrified that someone found him in such a weak state. He’d never been reduced to such, not even when he was being tortured. The closest he ever came to was when he nearly pissed himself after being under a Crucio for two hours straight, only one because he was twitching too much to control himself.

“Pup?”

Inwardly, he cringed. Damn. It just had to be Fenrir who found him. He stayed silent, unable to speak, and also unwilling in fear of throwing up again. Quickly approaching footsteps caused him to tense, whimpering softly when the movement caused his stomach to twist painfully. Above him, there was a roughly muttered curse.  

“Shit. What the hell happened?” A rough, but gentle, palm cupped his cheek. “Pup? You awake?”

Harry slowly opened his eyes, looking blearily into Fenrir’s face. The werewolf’s brow was scrunched, and his nose kept twitching. Probably from the smell. Gazes locking, Harry noticed when Fenrir’s softened in relief. He whimpered softly, wanting to move closer to the man, but being unable to unless he wanted more pain. The older man blinked.

“Can you talk? Or move?” When Harry only blinked at him, he scowled. “Fuck. You aren’t infected with a virus or anything, ‘cause I’d be able to smell that. What the hell happened to—what the hell is that on your face?”

He was referring to the blood that was now drying on Harry’s face. It was smeared across his brow and drying in a thin, messy line down the side of his nose, over his cheek, and past his chin, where it mixed with the bile that had dribbled there from his mouth. The cooling sweat didn’t help and the combination of the three created a putrid stench that was doing wonders on the two werewolves’ noses. Harry swallowed down another whimper and stared up at Fenrir.

“I’m going to get Draco and Remus. They probably know what’s wrong with you.”

Before Harry could muster up a response, Fenrir had whirled around and quickly ran from the room. Just in time too, as Harry’s stomach swirled again and his throat contracted. This time he only had enough energy to put his head over the side of the bed before he threw up again. He coughed up the last bit, groaning when it caused the burning in his throat to flare.

The only reason he was reacting so badly, he knew, was because he could feel what Voldemort was feeling. He could feel the delicious rush of magic as green light spouted from Voldemort’s wand. He could feel the glee when Lucius Malfoy’s body fell to the ground. He could fell the swell of arrogance and pride as the rest of the Death Eaters cowed and Bellatrix lurched forward to praise him with a mad glint in her eyes. But most of all, he could feel the moment when the last vestige of Voldemort’s soul ripped itself apart. It was like nothing he ever felt before; he felt no pain and yet he was in agony. He felt like he was falling apart. Like he would never be the same again. If that was what Voldemort felt ever time he killed someone, then it was understandable to Harry why he was so far off his rocker.

For a second time, the door opened and Harry felt a rush of relief and humiliation. He would have much preferred it if Fenrir hadn’t gone to get the others, but knew that he needed the help, whether or not he was embarrassed by being seen so weak. There was a gasp and a rush of footsteps. Cool hands touched his cheek and forehead, and Harry could tell by the texture that it was Remus.

“Harry…what happened…?” The hands disappeared as Remus turned away. “Draco, I need a calming draught and a nausea potion…They should be in the kitchen, in the third cupboard on the left when you enter. Fenrir, can you go with him and get some crackers and a glass of water?”  

There was a moment of silence, and then the door clicked quietly shut. Remus’ hands returned to Harry’s head for a brief moment.

“Harry, I’m going to wet a washcloth to put on your head, okay? I’ll be back in just a moment. Ah—let me get up this mess too.”

A gentle wave of magic washed over Harry’s skin as Remus banished the sweat, blood, tears, and bile from him, and then again with the puddle of nasty on the floor. Harry took a shaky deep breath of the now fresh air in relief. He could hear Remus move away to the joint bathroom, a bit of bustling around, and then the sound of running water. When the water cut off, Remus was there crouching in front of him not but a second later, carefully laying a cool, slightly wet cloth on his forehead. He immediately sighed in relief, not realizing how hot he actually was until he started to cool down.

Moments later, Draco and Fenrir returned with the requested supplies. With Fenrir’s help, Remus was able to get Harry up into a sitting position, though at the cost of a lot of pain on the raven’s part. Remus returned the cloth to his forehead, which had slipped off, after putting a quick cooling charm on it. Draco was thoughtful enough to bring a spoon, and immediately began the task of spoon-feeding Harry the required amount of each potion, not unlike how he did when Harry was held captive. When he finished the potions, he felt a bit better—definitely not feeling sick anymore—but he still couldn’t move much. This resulted in Fenrir silently volunteering himself to break up the salty crackers and hand-feed them to Harry. When he finished the crackers, he just wanted to go to sleep, but Fenrir forced him to drink about half of the cup of water. Afterwards, he couldn’t get his already drooping eyelids to stay open.

His body slid down as he allowed his heavy eyes to close. The last he saw were the worried faces of Fenrir, Remus, and Draco.

~oOo~

The next time he woke up, all the sickness and pain was fully gone and he was wrapped up in a lot of blankets. He wriggled out of the cocoon and sat up, looking around. Guessing from the amount of sunshine coming in from his window, he would say it was around just before noon, but casted a quick Tempus just to be doubly sure. There was a glass of water with a cooling charm on it sitting on his nightstand, and he gladly drank from it, downing all of it in two long swallows.

He sighed in relief, setting the glass back on the nightstand before slumping against his pillows. The sickness was gone, but now he was completely exhausted. His limbs felt heavy and his throat burned. He rubbed a hand down his face. Soon, someone was going to check on him and find him awake. And then he’d have to tell them exactly what happened. Fenrir always knew when he lied, so doing so would be pointless. He didn’t like lying, but he’d do anything to stop Draco from feeling the grief he certainly was going to be feeling. He knew what it felt like to lose someone, even if you didn’t exactly even like that person anymore.

The door to his room opened and he looked up to see Fenrir step inside quietly. The wolf looked up and their eyes met and held. After a moment or two, Harry swallowed and looked away. He could hear Fenrir’s nearly silent footsteps approach, and only looked up when the man sat beside him on the bed. Fenrir reached out and gently caressed the tip of his fingers along Harry’s cheek.        

“You okay, pup?’

Harry nodded. “I don’t feel sick anymore, at least.”

“Good.” The man grunted. Not knowing what to say, neither spoke for a moment, allowing an awkward silence to fall in the room.

After twiddling with his fingers for a moment, Harry sighed. “I’m guessing…you want to know what happened to me?”

Fenrir’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, I do. You fucking scared me, you know that? For a second I thought—I thought you were rejecting the werewolf gene or somethin’.”

“Oh.” Harry blinked. Then he grinned and weakly threw himself into Fenrir’s arms. “Thank you for worrying, Fen.”

“Fen? The hell?” The man snorted. “You are so strange. And you also need a bath; you smell like shit and barf.”

Harry sniffed mock-indignantly. “Well, excuse me for being sick and unable to move.” He squeaked as Fenrir suddenly lifted him into the air. “Oi! Lemme go, Fenrir.” 

“Nope. You need a bath.” Fenrir began to carry him into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. “And I’m going to give you one.”

“I can bathe myself, dammit.” Harry crossed his arms as he was sat on the counter next to the sink.

Fenrir bent down to start the water. “Uh huh.”

“I can!”

“But I thought you were sick and couldn’t move.” Fenrir straightened and smirked at him.

Harry glared. “That was yesterday.”

“And today you stink and I’m going to give you a bath.” The man turned for a second to check the water. “I can’t have you stinking when you meet the pack. You already have a bad enough attitude.”

“Oi.” Harry swatted Fenrir’s arm and the man gave him a cheeky grin. “Don’t look at me like that. And your water’s going to overflow.”

“Shit.” Fenrir turned and quickly turned off the water. He shot Harry a look. “Strip.”

“Not until you get out.”

Fenrir put his hands on his hips. “And let you somehow fuck up and hurt yourself. Think again, pup.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Fenrir…”

“Fine.” Fenrir moved forward a picked Harry up. His eyes widened as he was carried to the tub and, before he could be dropped into the water, wrapped his arms tightly around Fenrir’s neck. The man grunted. “Leggo. You don’t want to get undressed, then you will take a bath with all your clothes on. One way or another, you’re going to be clean.”

“Fe~en.” Harry yelped as Fenrir began to forcibly pry him away. “Okay, okay! I’ll take my clothes off, I promise.”

“You better.” Fenrir put him on his feet.

“At least turn around.” Harry pouted. Fenrir growled, but complied.

Harry took off his clothes as quickly as he could possibly move. He had a bit of trouble getting his shirt over his head and was seriously contemplating asking Fenrir for help when the man took it upon his self to help anyway.

“I knew you were going to need help. Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Why were you peeking?”

Fenrir snorted. “I didn’t need to peek. I could hear you struggling.”

Cheeks flaming red, Harry wriggled out of his pants and quickly jumped into the tub. He immediately curled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, burying his head into his knees. Above him, Fenrir snorted again.

“What the hell are you so embarrassed about? There ain’t nothing you got that I ain’t seen before. Besides, you were bare-ass naked not a few days ago*.”

“No.” Harry peeked up from behind his knees, only enough that his eyes showed. “The water…reacts negatively with my glamours, so I had to…take them off.”

“Glamours?” Fenrir blinked. “What glamours? I didn’t know you had any glamours.”

“Yeah…” He ducked back behind his knees.

“How’d you get glamours to work back at the Manor?”

“…’Cause they’re not from wizard magic.”

Fenrir’s brow furrowed. “What? No—forget that. What did you use the glamours to cover up?”

“No.” Harry curled tighter into his self.

“What the hell do you mean ‘no’?” When Harry didn’t respond, Fenrir growled. “Pup…”

After a moment or two, Harry slowly lifted his head up. He was shaking so bad that he sent ripples along the water’s surface. His eyes were closed and his eyelashes glistened with tears. Fenrir sucked in a sharp gasp, eyes widening as they took in Harry’s face without the glamours.

On the right side of his face was a long, silvery cut that started just under the ridge of his cheekbone and ended somewhere under his jaw. It was thin and light enough that human eyes wouldn’t have been able to see it. On the left side of his mouth, just over his lips, was another, wider and darker scar. From his position, Fenrir could see what looked like the edge of a large burn curling up towards his neck and shoulders from his chest, possibly even lower. Harry lifted his arms and Fenrir’s eyes narrowed on the thin, angry red scar tissue that lined evenly on each of the underside of his biceps. When Harry stretched his legs out so that they were no longer hiding the rest of his body, Fenrir noted more scar tissue that overlap the burn, which indeed crept all the way down to his left hip. The skin around his hips and thighs were discolored, probably from being bruised repeatedly in the same place before older wounds could heal. Fenrir nearly exploded when Harry turned around and he caught sight of thick, deep scars that littered his back. He saw red when he read the word carved into the small of Harry’s back.

“Who did this to you, Harry?” Fenrir growled.

Harry jerked in surprise, his eyes wide. That was the second time Fenrir ever called him Harry. He was so surprised that Fenrir’s question didn’t even register in his mind until the older werewolf growled, this one dark and dangerous. Harry frowned at the man; he knew the anger wasn’t directed at him, but honestly, it was years ago and Fenrir should’ve just been glad that he wasn’t with the Dursleys anymore.

“It was those filthy humans, wasn’t it?” Fenrir began to pace angrily, mumbling and growling as he went. “I’ll kill them, I swear on Merlin’s saggy balls I will. No wonder Voldemort wants to get rid of Muggles, if this is the type of shit they do.” He suddenly whirled on Harry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well…” Harry looked away. “It’s embarrassing…and I hate these scars. I just—I really want to forget about them and what they did to me Fenrir, please.”

Fenrir swallowed hard, visibly forcing himself to calm down. He stepped forward and ran his hand through Harry’s hair. “Alright, pup. I’ll let it go. But you can’t hide your scars anymore.”

“What?!” Harry jerked away. “Why?

“You can’t heal if you don’t face it, pup. Besides, there are plenty of potions and salves that can get rid of those, if slowly. Stop usin’ your magic for something so stupid. I have a bunch of scars and no one gives a fuck.”

“But you’re Fenrir Greyback.”

He arched a brow and sat on the edge of the tub, reaching out to thumb Harry’s cheek softly. “And you’re Harry Potter. We all have our battles scars. What changes is how they get ‘em, and what they’re goin’ to do about it.”

Their gazes locked, dark green clashing with icy blue-grey. A hot shudder went down Harry’s back at the look Fenrir was giving him. It was a suddenly hungry look, as if the man just wanted to eat him piece by piece. Harry swallowed hard and looked away.

“Look at you, trying to sound all philosophical or something.” He tried.

After a moment, where he could feel Fenrir’s hot stare on him, the man finally responded, standing up and dusting his pants off. “I try, sometimes. Now get out and go get dressed in something nice or whatever. The pack should be here soon.”

“Okay.”

Harry waited until the door clicked softly behind Fenrir to look up, let out a deep sigh. He curled his legs back up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees, watching his fingers as he trailed them along the surface of the water. The Dursleys. Hopefully he would never have to see them ever again. Now he had a new family.

Or so he hoped.   


	6. The Pack

Fenrir stomped down the stairs, grumbling. He couldn’t get those scars covering his Pup’s body out of his mind. At that fucking word on his back. Freak. As if his Pup was a freak. If anyone was the freak, it was the fucking Muggle who did that. He couldn’t help the growl that ripped from his chest as he barged into the kitchen. Remus and Draco looked up at him with wide eyes, the latter arching a brow.

“Is Harry okay, Fenrir?”

“If you’re talking about his sickness, then yes he’s fine.”

Remus’ brow furrowed and he put down the container he was holding. “What do you mean? Why else wouldn’t he be fine?”

“Did you know about the scars on his body?” Fenrir pinned Remus with a glare, advancing towards the slighter wolf menacingly. Remus, however, was unperturbed.

“Scars? You mean the ones Voldemort gave him?”

Fenrir growled again. “No, I mean the years old ones all over his body. I mean the fucking scar that says ‘freak’ on his back.”

Draco stood. “What?!”

“He has a scar that says ‘freak’ on his back?” Remus whispered, his face deathly pale. He dropped his head into his hands. “Fuck.”

“Hey.” Fenrir grabbed Remus’ shoulder. “Do you know who did this to him? He said something about his aunt and uncle treating him like shit, but—.”

Remus’ head shot up, his pupils dilated and his eyes more golden than usual. A snarl twisted his lips. “The Dursleys. Those stupid sons of bitches. It had to be them. Harry always said he didn’t want to go back over there, but I never listened to him. Oh, Merlin.”

“Do you know where they live?”

“Yes.” Remus nodded, then met Fenrir’s hard gaze. “Are we going to…?”

“You bet your ass we are.” Fenrir let go of Remus’ shoulders. “Right now—.”

Just then, the alarms went off. Fenrir’s eyes widened. He’d forgotten about his pack coming today. Oh fuck, they couldn’t see him like this. Not when he looked ready to kill. That would put them all on high alert. He took a deep breath as he went for the door, schooling his features into a hard mask.

“Fenrir!”

He suddenly had an armful of female wolf, dark brown hair getting into his mouth. His nose was invaded with a spicy smell and he immediately knew who it was. Bryanna. He grimaced and pushed her away. She bounced back, a happy smile on her face and a look of adoration in her eyes.

“It’s so good to see you again, Alpha.” Murmurs of agreement went through his pack.

“Well here I am.” He stepped back. “Come in. We have a new addition to the pack, and I wanna introduce him to you guys.”

~oOo~

Harry was pulling his shirt on when the door to his room creaked open and Draco stepped inside. The blonde crossed the room and sat on the bed, crossing his legs and eyeing Harry with a critical look. The raven went still, his heart pumping in his chest.

"So...Fenrir is downstairs freaking out, though he will not admit it, and Remus is hiding in the kitchens with the excuse of making food. That is obviously a lie, as we still have all that damned food you made yesterday under a stasis spell. I came up here to get you, or in my excuse, to get away from all that going on down there. The pack’s here." Draco blinked and leaned forward. "Are you sure you are okay, Harry? Because you look extremely pale. Did you have another vision, or whatever it is you have?"

“No.” Harry shook his head slowly. “No, I just…I guess I’m nervous about meeting the rest of the pack, you know? I know that Lance liked me, or whatever, but what if the others aren’t so accepting?”

Draco snorted. “Oh, please, Harry. Not only are you the Boy Who Lived, but you are also one of the few wolves that have survived Fenrir’s overly strong bite? They will be sucking up to you like they were Death Eaters and you were the Dark Lord.”

Harry winced and turned away. “Yeah…but that’s not how I want them to treat me. I want them to actually like me for me, Draco, not worship me.”

“Harry, the Boy Who Lived is who you are. It is a part of you, no matter how much you deny it.” Draco stood. “I know you despise the attention you get for it, but it is a part of your life. Now, let us go down and greet our guests, shall we?”

“Don’t forget you’re a guest too, Draco.” Harry smirked at the blonde as they headed out the door.

“Oh, please. You do not even know how to properly take care of your guests.”

“I do too!” Harry said indignantly as they began down the stairs.   

He received a snort. “You had Kreacher doing everything!”

“Kreacher,” Harry growled. “is an useless house elf that doesn’t listen to anything I say and has to be bribed or threatened to do anything around here!”

Someone cleared their throat and Harry and Draco looked up. Sometime during their argument, they’d arrived in the living room…which was full of Fenrir’s pack, most of who were staring at the two of them with amused expressions. Fenrir included. Harry flushed and looked down.

“Harry, nice of you to join us.” He could tell Fenrir was messing with him by the tone of the man’s voice. “Sorry to interrupt your wonderful discussion, but you do have an audience who would like to meet you.”

Harry cheeks grew even hotter, and his head whipped up so that he could glare at Fenrir. The man was smirking at him, with an eyebrow raised, his look daring Harry to do something. Harry merely bared his teeth at Fenrir for a moment before turning to the others with a glare. He noticed Lance secretly laughing at him, face turned away so that Harry couldn’t see the grin.

“Ahem, well I’m Harry Potter, and it’s nice to finally be able to meet you guys.”

Fenrir snorted and began making introductions before Harry could snap at him. “Well, you already know Lance…”

It took Harry less than an hour to remember and identify all nine pack members by name and smell. Fenrir had also thought it was a good idea for him to remember at least one thing from everyone too, so he took the liberty of finding out something about them, for the most part.

First there was Lance, Fenrir’s right hand man and the lead Beta. He smelled kind of vanilla-y and carried a really faint scent of Fenrir’s marking scent on him. Harry knew that all of the pack carried Fenrir’s scent on them, marking them as part of Fenrir’s pack.

There were five higher level Beta’s. Emile, who smelt like the crisp, fresh night air and had jet black hair like Harry and dark hazel eyes and had a quiet force to him. Seth, who kind of smelled like grass and had sandy blonde hair and jade green eyes and liked to play around a lot. Bryanna, who smelled like spicy herbs and had dark brown hair and eyes and was a great hunter. Michal, who smelled like snow, if snow had a scent, and had dark brown hair and dark blue eyes and he was Russian. Lastly, Tamera, who smelled really sweet and had auburn hair and light blue eyes and was really childish.

Then lastly there were three lower level Beta’s, or in other words, the bitches of the pack. Jake, who had a musky, cologne-like scent and had light brown hair and dark brown eyes and was a bit stupid. Erick, who was Jake’s younger brother and smelled a bit like him, but had blonde hair and dark grey eyes and loved to wrestle. Lastly, Renee, who smelled like cigarettes and had black hair and dark brown eyes and was the oldest in the pack. Fenrir’s pack wasn’t big enough for any Omegas, but if Harry had to guess it, Jake would’ve been one. The guy was a sucker. 

Adding Harry to the pack made them now a pack of eleven. Majority of the pack liked him, and he liked them back, with the exception of Jake, who kept giving him this creepy, leering look. But more than once Fenrir had come to his rescue and smacked Jake on the back of his head. There were only three in the pack who outwardly hated him—ironically, it was the women. He asked Fenrir about it and now he understood—he was a male submissive.

Male submissives were more highly desired than women submissives because male ones had a better chance of producing strong, healthy male pups. It wasn’t that female submissives couldn’t, it was just that a male one had a higher chance—the child forming from a double XY gamete formation as opposed to a XX, XY gamete formation, in which the baby’s gender had a higher chance of being female due to the ratio of X chromosomes to Y chromosomes. With the double XY gamete formation, it was an even chance for either male or female, the most likely outcome being male.

A male submissive was even more desired than a female dominant, who’s very DNA is structured to birth healthy male heirs. Bryanna was a female dominate, while Tamera and Renee were submissives, and Harry was pretty sure that not even Voldemort hated him as much as Bryanna did.

And so he stayed close to Fenrir, though a niggling thought in the back of his head was telling him that doing so was probably only making things worse, but he would rather they hate him more rather than risk straying from Fenrir’s side and getting mysteriously torn to bits. Not that he cared about how they felt about him. They could glare at him all they wanted, but as long as they didn’t start any shit, then Harry wasn’t either. But if they decided they were going to try to separate him from Fenrir…well, Harry wasn’t the Boy Who Lived for nothing. Either way, Fenrir was helping him get to know the others in the pack, easing the tension Harry felt being surrounded by so many people he knew.

Remus had strayed in a few minutes after the introductions had gone around, and everyone was interested in him because they could smell Fenrir’s sire scent on him, but couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t in the pack. Draco was ‘mingling’ or whatever he called it, Harry didn’t care. The twins had arrived thirty minutes before and were asking the most obscene questions about Fenrir that they could think of. They didn’t hesitate to share Fenrir’s moment of immaturity, the time they caught him whining to Harry about breakfast. Fenrir had growled at them, but otherwise did nothing, much to the confusion of the pack.

The Fenrir they knew would have ripped them to pieces by now. But Remus, Draco, and the Twins knew why he didn’t. It was because the Twins were Harry’s dearest friends, and he would never purposely do something to hurt Harry. Said raven was of course oblivious to this and would probably deny it should someone mention it.

At the moment, Harry was sitting beside Fenrir, listening quietly as the man and Lance discussed where they were going to live as their old place had been compromised, while everyone else conversed or sat around.

“I’m telling you, Fenrir. We were everywhere while you were…gone.” Lance swallowed, his eyes darkening for a moment. “There’s nowhere safe to live anymore that isn’t someone else’s territory or has any prey. Any other place that isn’t unclaimed and bountiful were really open areas. We have two choices, leave Britain or integrate with the Muggles somewhere that have a forest nearby.”

Fenrir growled low, rubbing his temples. “Dammit. We can’t leave Britain; they’ve got the damn place locked down with Voldemort on the loose. It’s too dangerous to live in a populated area.”

“We won’t hurt the Muggles, Fenrir, not if there is a forest nearby.”

“But the area is unprotected. With so many of us, anyone could figure out what we are.” He growled. “Especially those damn Aurors.”

Harry popped up, eyes wide and bright with excitement. “You guys could stay here. It’s under a Fidelus charm and other spells so ancient and dark that no one would even think about trying to get in here without my permission. And there’s a forest not even two thousand meters (a little more than a mile) from here. And I have more money than I can spend in five lifetimes so there won’t be any financial issues. And both Remus and I know how to cook, so food is covered. And this place has more than enough rooms—”

“Okay, Harry, we get it.” Fenrir rolled his eyes fondly, then shared a look with Lance.

“It couldn’t hurt to try.” The other man shrugged and Fenrir sighed.

“You’re useless, Lance.” He glanced at Harry. “Sure, Harry, why not?”

“Great!” Harry jumped up and ran off to tell Remus. The light haired man didn’t take it quite so well.

“What?! Harry, what were you thinking?”

Harry glared. “I was thinking that my pack needed somewhere that’s protected to stay. Besides, Fenrir already agreed.”

“Harry, they can’t stay here.”

“You can’t tell me what to do. This is my house. I want them to stay here and Fenrir agreed, so they’re staying.”

Draco sidled up. “I am in agreement Harry. What if they left? Harry would go with them, because they are his pack. What are you going to do; join their pack? Would it not be better if they stayed, Remus?”

Remus clenched his teeth, but deflated. “I guess so. Don’t know why you told me, not like you care anymore.”

“Oh, Remus.” Harry giggled at the pouting werewolf. “It’s not that I don’t care, but I’m just trying to enforce the fact that I am a fully grown man who has probably had more responsibility in my left pinky finger than anyone else. People need to remember that, especially the ones closest to me.”

The older werewolf’s cheeks turned slightly pink at Harry’s pointed look. “Okay, okay. I understand. Merlin, you’re growing so fast.”

Harry grinned cheekily at Remus before skipping back over to Fenrir and Lance. The rugged Alpha looked down at him with a raised eyebrow.    

“So I take it the little shit is with us?” 

“Fen…” Harry whined with a frown. “Stop calling Remus that. It’s not nice at all. And yes, he’s on board.”

Fenrir snorted. “Imma keep callin’ him that until he stops actin’ like one.”

Harry sighed, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to change Fenrir’s mind. “Whatever. Are you going to tell the others we’re staying here, or am I going to have to rot away waiting?”

“Oh yeah.” By now, Fenrir was used to Harry’s strange comments. In fact, he secretly found it cute, but he’d kill himself before he told anyone that. He stood, clearing his throat, and everyone immediately went silent. “I’m sure y’all are aware of the problem with findin’ somewhere to live, but we worked it out. After talkin’ about it, me and Lance thought it would be best if we stay here. Harry is more than willin’ to lend us his place and cash. And it’s under a Fidelus charm, which damn near guarantees our safety. So get comfortable cuz we ain’t goin’ nowhere else.”

~oOo~

Harry hummed quietly as he prepared lunch from the leftovers he’d made from before. He figured they would need a lot of food, going by the way Fenrir and Remus ate. And maybe he would need to go grocery shopping soon. Or somehow convince Kreacher to go because he had a feeling Fenrir wasn’t letting him out of the house any time soon. He couldn’t explain it, but there was this tension between the two of them since Fenrir had seen his scars. He was glad Fenrir didn’t know who the Dursleys were and where they lived.

He looked up when he heard footsteps and found himself staring at three pissed female wolves. The brunette—Bryanna, he had to remember—stepped towards him.

“Okay, look. I get that you’re Harry Potter or whatever, and you managed to survive Fenrir’s bite, which puts you in a high position in the pack, but don’t think that means anything. Fenrir is mine, and so you can’t have him. I will be the one who has his pups, got it?”

The raven blinked, then shrugged. “Okay. I don’t know what gave you any idea that I was competition, but okay. Go for it.” He wiped his hands on his apron and took it off. “I think lunch is ready. I’ll just get the others.”

Bryanna and her two lackies followed Harry towards the living room. Just before he entered, however, Harry turned around and smirked at her.

“But I think that if Fenrir actually wanted you, Bryanna…” His voice was a deadly quiet hiss, just loud enough to carry to the trio of girls and into into the room. “Then he’d already be with you. Obviously, there’s something he sees that he doesn’t like. Keep that in mind.”

He gave them a cute, smug smile and entered the living room. Draco, seeing the smile, gave him a questioning look, but Harry shook his head. Honestly, he didn’t even know where that came from; it was this suddenly instinctive need that came from his gut. He beelined for Fenrir, waiting at the werewolf’s side until he finished his discussion and would give Harry his attention. Harry already knew that Fenrir knew he was there; Fenrir had told him that he had a distinct smell that was easy to pick out in a crowd. He didn’t have to wait long, because Lance decided to stop talking and smiled at Harry.

“Hey there, little Pup. How’re you liking the pack?”

Harry smiled, and though Lance didn’t notice the devious curl to Harry’s lips, Fenrir sure caught it. “Oh, everyone is very enjoyable.”

“That so?” Fenrir grunted, squinting at Harry.

“Don’t squint, Fenrir; it’ll mess up your eyes.”

Fenrir grumbled. “I’ll squint when I want to. Now what the hell do you want?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Lunch is ready.”

“…oh.”

“Yeah.”

Somehow, through all the commotion as everyone sat down—the table had to be enlarged—Harry found himself between Fenrir and Bryanna. Fenrir sat at the head of the table, with Remus on the other end, and Harry was to his left, Lance to his right. Apparently, Bryanna was used to sitting beside Fenrir and was forced to take the next best thing when Fenrir made Harry sit next to him. The implication of the position of his seat was lost on Harry, but the rest of the pack gaped at Fenrir. The man himself was oblivious, having seemingly placed Harry beside him unconsciously.

The lunch was spent with everyone eating tensely. Bryanna was glaring continuously at Harry, partially because he was next to Fenrir, but also because his food was so fucking good and she didn’t even know how to cook. Harry was sending her smug looks in between his fascinating discussion with Lance on what Fenrir was like when they were younger. He and Fenrir were apparently childhood friends. Fenrir was oblivious to the tension, scowling and denying everything Lance said about him. Lance was painfully aware of the silent feud that was apparently going on between Harry and Bryanna, and kept sending worried glances between the two.

Everyone survived, however, and Harry got Kreacher to prepare rooms for everyone, as not every room in Grimmauld place was habitable quite yet and they would need room for everyone to live comfortably. Fenrir, Harry, and Lance spent the rest of the afternoon discussing construction on the manor, not only to accommodate the pack, but also to make the place seem less dreary and dank.

All-in-all, Harry believed it was a pretty good day. He got to meet the pack finally and they all seemed to like him—with the exception of the females naturally—and he even managed to, as the Muggles would say, hold his weight by providing the pack with a home. Even Draco and Remus were slowly being integrated into the pack, even if the former was human and the latter was a Loner. Draco more so than Remus, anyway, as the blonde found himself quite interested in Michal. According to him, Michal was just as equally interested and Fenrir apparently didn’t care if they had a fling. Pf course with the exception of if it became more than sex, Michal had permission to turn Draco if he was willing to take the risk. Harry was only almost three months younger and he turned out fine with Fenrir’s stronger, more potent bite; so Draco would more than likely be fine if they found themselves wanting more in a relationship in, at the most, the end of the year.

Harry bid everyone a goodnight with a smile on his face. He completely loved the pack, and he couldn’t help the tight ball of hope in his chest that was begging for a family. But everything seemed a little bit too good to be true and Harry couldn’t help the foreboding feeling that was creeping up on him that something was going to go wrong. Nothing good ever happened to him without something bad happening soon after. Sirius was a perfect example of that.

He was about to crawl into bed, already changed into his pajamas, when a knock on the door made him pause. “Yes? Come in!”

The door opened and Fenrir stepped inside, bluish silver eyes locked intensely on Harry. The raven fidgeted under the intense gaze, looking down when Fenrir closed the door behind him. Harry didn’t look up as Fenrir approached, and even turned his back when the man stopped in front of him. Fenrir rumbled.

“Pup, what’s going on between you and Bryanna?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Why nothing at all, Fenrir, why would you even suggest that?”

Fenrir growled and forced Harry to turn around. “Don’t play dumb with me, Pup. She was glaring at you all goddamn day and you had this smug look.”

“That was her fault; she’s just a bitch.”

“She’s only a bitch when she has a reason to, Pup, meaning that you did something.”

Harry stepped back and glared at Fenrir. “Oh, I’m sorry she doesn’t like the fact that I fucking exist. I believe she took offense because I breathed the same air she did. She might not be a bitch to you, Fenrir, but she sure as hell is one to me.”

“What a bunch of—.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Fenrir, and let me go to sleep.” Harry turned away, only to be pulled back by a growling Fenrir.

“Don’t turn the fuck away from me!”

“Well, what do you want me to do? I’m tired from a long day and you’re in here bitching to me about Bryanna.”

“If you just talked to her—.”

“I don’t want to talk to her!” Harry exploded. “Why are you so insistent on this anyway?!”

“Because, goddammit, Harry I want you to fit in the fucking pack!” Fenrir yelled, causing Harry’s eyes to widen.

“I fit in fine with the pack, Fenrir.” He began quietly, but deadly, eyes flashing Avada Kedavra green. “It’s just Bryanna and her cronies. I think everyone else likes me but them, so maybe you’re talking to the wrong fucking person.”

Fenrir’s eyes flashed darkly. “God fucking dammit, Harry.”

And then they were kissing. Harry immediately melted into Fenrir, loving the feeling of the man’s rough palm cupping his face, the strong arm around his waist that was lifting him up slightly. He threw his arms around Fenrir’s neck, pulling himself impossibly closer to the man. A growl rumbled from Fenrir’s chest, up his throat and into Harry. Harry shivered at the feeling and Fenrir kissed him harder.

When they finally pulled apart sometime later, both of them breathing hard, Harry could do nothing more than stare into Fenrir’s lust blown eyes. His pupils were so dilated that only a thin ring of molten silver surrounded the black circle, and his gaze was so hot that it caused Harry to tremble from the sheer pressure of it. He licked his lips, still tasting Fenrir on them.

“Wow…” The whisper slipped past his lips.

Fenrir smirked and kissed him again. The man took two steps forward and they fell on the bed together, the movement causing their lips to separate. Fenrir quickly rolled over before he crushed Harry, but the teen just rolled into Fenrir’s side and curled up there. The older werewolf wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist possessively.

“Fen…” Harry sighed, before exhaustion crept up on him and his eyes fluttered close.  

It wasn’t until morning, when he woke up, that Harry realized that multiple times Fenrir had called him by his given name, instead of Pup.


	7. Mates

When Harry woke up, he and Fenrir were under the covers and the older werewolf was sprawled out, snoring slightly with a slight bit of drool slithering down his cheek. His arm was still around Harry’s waist. Harry smiled at the babyish sight of Fenrir—really, the man was such a child at heart—and tried to slip out of Fenrir’s grip. Only for the man’s arm to tighten. He wriggled experimentally, then sighed.

“ _Fenrir.”_ The man only grunted, making Harry roll his eyes. “FENRIR!”

Fenrir shot up, growling and looking around wildly. Harry took the chance to slip away and stand. He felt his bones crack with the movement and stretched to rid himself of all the kinks and knots in his muscles. He didn’t turn around to look at Fenrir, already knowing what the man’s face would look like, and walked towards the door, grabbing a pair of old pants from his dresser on his way. He usually went down to make breakfast earlier, but he woke up a bit late, so they would probably eat some more leftovers. At least he made breakfast food in abundance.

“Harry…” Fenrir growled from behind him.

Harry quickly stuffed his pants on, humming calmly all the while, and left the room. He heard Fenrir curse and fumble out of the bed behind him and quickly ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. He saw the Twins bright red hair, Draco’s blinding white strands, and Remus’ brown mop. Half of the pack looked up and greeted him.

“Hey, Harry, we’ve got a few questions!” They tried to mob him, but he slipped around them.

“Hey guys, no time.” Fenrir storming and cursing reached their ears and the pack wore identical expressions of confusion. “Right…”

He grabbed some food from the table and gobbled it down. It was surprising that he didn’t choke at the speed he ate. The door banged open and Fenrir stalked inside, eyes immediately finding Harry and promising murder. Harry heard a choked gasp but ignored it, keeping his eyes on Fenrir as he backed away.

“Pup…” A snarl lifted the man’s lip.  

“Fenrir…Beautiful morning isn’t it?”

Seth cleared his throat. “Umm…is it okay if I asked what’s going on?”

The two wolves ignored him, eyes locked. Harry licked his lips, debating with himself on when he should run. Or if he _should_ run. Fenrir’d catch him anyway. Fenrir growled and instincts took over. There was a door from the kitchen leading outside and he went for it. He was outside and running before anyone could blink. Fenrir cursed and stormed after him. He made a sharp left and circled back to the front of the house, entering through the front door. He knew the house better than Fenrir did, but he knew the older werewolf could track him better than he could lose the man. So he retraced his steps back to the kitchen and out the door and around again.

This went on for five minutes. All the pack was awake and laughing, including the Twins and Draco. Remus was still horror struck. Fenrir was too angry to realize he should stop and wait for Harry to come around to catch him. It didn’t matter, as Fenrir caught him anyway, but it would’ve taken less time.

Harry yelped when Fenrir’s claws dug into his exposed skin on his hip above his pants. He heard the man growl in satisfaction and yelped again when Fenrir threw him over the shoulder like a sack of potatoes, but with an unexpected gentleness. He growled and glared at Fenrir’s back.

“Fenrir…” The man growled in response and carried him into the house by the means of the back door. The pack burst into another fit of laughter seeing Harry over Draco’s shoulder and he growled at them to shut up. He heard someone ask something and heard the Twin’s reply.

“This is pretty much an everyday occurrence. They always get into a fight in the morning or in the afternoon because Harry would either get bored and annoy Fenrir, or Fenrir would do something that would piss off Harry and make him do something. We were totally freaked the first time we saw Fenrir chasing Harry down the hall, his hair bright pink.”

He heard the pack’s laughter and Bryanna’s grumbling just as the door closed. He said nothing as Fenrir climbed up the stairs, knowing he’d get a growl in return. He was in deep shit; that much was clear. Fenrir was severely pissed at him. They entered Harry’s room and Fenrir threw him down on the bed. He shot up with a growl.

“Hey—!” Fenrir pushed him back down on the bed, climbing on top of him. He was going to start complaining at the man when he saw the way Fenrir’s pupils dilate looking down at him. He licked his lips, wondering what was going to happen next and trying to control his erratic heartbeat.

“Pup…” Fenrir’s voice sounded unsure, even if his gaze was solid. “Can I ask you something?”

Harry shrugged. “Shoot.”

“Will you…? Shit.” Fenrir quickly pulled away, sitting at the edge of the bed with his head hung. Harry sat up and put his hand on Fenrir’s shoulder.

“Fen…are you okay?”

The man looked over and squinted at him. Harry had to resist the urge to tell him to stop squinting. “This is way harder than I thought it would be.”

“What?” Harry sighed when Fenrir looked away. “Come on, Fenrir, tell me.”

“Will you…” Fenrir growled. “God fuckin’ dammit, pup, will you be my fuckin’ mate?”

Harry’s eyes widened and his heart picked up speed. “You want me to…?”

“Be my mate, have my pups, all that.”

“But…” Harry looked down. “I’m used, damaged goods. I’m no good, Fen, do you really want someone as fucked up as me to be your mate? Especially while Voldemort’s still on my ass?”

“Fuck, Harry, I would’ve asked if I didn’t want you.” Fenrir frowned as him. “Besides, you’re not nearly as fucked up as I am, so shut up.”

“Oh, Fenrir.” At lost for words, Harry threw himself into Fenrir’s arms, easily straddling him.

Grabbing the man’s face in between his palms, Harry leaned forward and kissed Fenrir as hard as he could. The werewolf responded eagerly, grabbing Harry round his waist and deepening the kiss. Then a thought occurred and Harry pulled away, biting his lip. Fenrir looked at him with confused, lust-blown eyes.

“Sorry, I just…” Harry looked down. “…I want to know if you picked me as your mate because of me or because I’m a male submissive.”

Fenrir tensed and let out a growl-like curse. Alarmed, Harry looked up and around as Fenrir’s grip on him changed, but the man was only tightening his grip as he thrust his hips up into Harry’s. The raven gasped and blushed as he immediately felt the long, engorged member coming from Fenrir’s lap and making a significantly large bulge in the man’s jeans. Fenrir roughly grabbed Harry’s chin and forced him to look up into those hard, icy grey eyes.

“This is what you do to me.” Fenrir growled out, his voice husky and slightly rasped. “All the time. _This_ is why I don’t want you followin’ me around all damn day. Every time I see you, smell you, hear you, I want to fuck you raw and senseless into the ground.” Harry blushed harder and tried to pull away, but Fenrir’s grasp was unrelenting. “I want to fuck you and claim you as you come hard and long for me. And I want to do it all _the fuckin’ time._ I don’t know what it is about you pup, but you get me hot in a way no other submissive has before.”

A burst of heat exploded and spread through Harry’s body; he gave a small whimper of want. The area around him got brighter as his eyes dilated and he was sure Fenrir could see the lust in his eyes. The man’s own eyes were dilated till a small ring of lusty, blue-silver surrounded the pupil. Harry tried to lean forward even as Fenrir’s hand held him back and he whimpered again. Fenrir’s lip lifted slightly in a small snarl.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, pup.” Harry only replied with a snarl of his own and he reached out to grab Fenrir’s bulge through his pants.

Fenrir ripped out a growl and his grip on Harry’s chin changed, pulling the young submissive into a hard kiss. Harry gasped at the suddenness and Fenrir took advantage to shove his tongue in, drawing Harry into a deeper kiss. The young raven haired wolf, hands on Fenrir’s cock forgotten, moaned and leaned forward, his body on fire. He moaned again as Fenrir bit his lip hard, but not enough to draw blood. Fenrir pulled away with one last nip to Harry’s bottom lip and the young wolf growled.

The man chuckled. “Not now, pup. We’re too close to the pack; I don’t like it.” His voice deepened into a growl. “We will wait until a later, better time. Probably on the full moon.”

Harry whimpered, wanting Fenrir now. “Will you at least mark me or something, dammit?”

Fenrir growled and without a word tilted Harry’s chin up, baring his white neck, and quickly bit where Harry’s neck and shoulder met. An electric shock passed through Harry and he jerked with a gasp. Fenrir growled a warning to keep still around his skin and roughly licked at the sore spot. Harry gasped and shivered as Fenrir bit, licked, and suckled at his neck, arousing him to no end.

Alas, the mark was made and Fenrir stopped, leaning back to look down at Harry through heavily lidded eyes. Harry bit his lip and looked back up him.

“Thank you, Fenrir.” His voice quiet, if a little breathy. Fenrir grunted and pulled him into a kiss, softer and slower than any other kiss they shared. It was, of course, at that moment when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Alpha, Harry, you guys…okay in there?” Lance’s voice came through. “You’ve been in there for a while now.”

Harry grinned and bounced his way off of Fenrir’s lap and to the door. His mark was on full display, immediately drawing Lance’s gaze. The man blinked, staring at Harry with a blank expression as his nose twitched.

“Um…that’s a little unexpected.” He suddenly grinned. “But congratulations! Honestly, I guess I should’ve expected this. The tension between you two was thick as tar.”

Fenrir came up behind Harry, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Shut up, Lance.”

Lance only laughed. “You two make a cute couple. But I’ll tell you this, Fenrir, from what I’ve seen, Harry’s going to give you a run for your money.”

“You know it, Lance.” Harry grinned up at the man who he was already beginning to consider an older brother. Fenrir grumbled in his ear.

“Can we stop dissin’ me and go down to eat something? I’m starvin’.”

Pandemonium broke out as soon as Harry stepped into the kitchen. After Fenrir marked him, his scent had slowly began to change and the others could smell the difference before they even noticed the mark on his neck. Fenrir pulled Harry behind his back as everyone—minus Draco and the Twins, who were just mostly confused—and growled loudly, effectively shutting them all up.

“I have decided to make Harry my mate for reasons you don’t need to fuckin’ know. He accepted, obviously you see and smell my mark on him, so that’s that. Anyone with any complaints can gladly get their head ripped off.” He put his hands on his hips. “Any questions?”

The room was silent for a moment. Then Bryanna shrieked in frustration and stormed through the back down. They could see her stop in the backyard from the window, running her hands through her hair before putting her hands on her hips and standing there. Harry felt a twinge of guilt, but only for a moment. She was a complete bitch and didn’t deserve Fenrir. Harry knew he could be bitchy, but she took it to a whole new level. He turned when he saw Draco stand from his peripheral.

“Okay, so you are telling me you two finally stopped dancing around each other?” A look of relief spread across his pale features. “Final-fucking-ly. I thought I was going to die from stress before you two got out of your asses and noticed each other.”

Harry glared at Draco, the look ruined by his red cheeks. “What the hell are you talking about, Draco?”

The blonde snorted. “Oh, please, Harry. You two were practically destined ever since you were thrown in a cell together.”

“In a cell together?” Lance frowned, but before he could say anything else, Fenrir growled at him in warning.

“What happened at Malfoy Manor stays at Malfoy Manor, understood?” His glare swept through the room. “I don’t want to hear anythin’ about me being there, or how me and Harry met, or any bullshit like that. Understood?”

“Yes, Alpha.” Came the solemn reply.

Harry noticed some of them glancing at Draco, who was looking pointedly at the ceiling. He frowned and subtly nudged Fenrir. The wolf nudged him back, and Harry was somehow able to realize that Fenrir was telling him that he had too noticed. They were only just mated and they were already so connected. Harry couldn’t help a small smile.

“Hey?” He looked up to find the retarded as always Jake squinting at him and Fenrir. “Does that mean we have to call Harry Alpha now?”

“Obviously, you fucking dumbfuck.” Harry and Fenrir chorused together in a snarl; Harry’s higher pitched growl harmonizing perfectly with Fenrir’s rumbling voice.

There was a moment of silence, broken only when Draco and the Twins started snickering behind their hands. Lance joined in a moment later, followed by more of the pack. Even Tamera and Renee giggled a little, gasping in shock when they realized what they were doing. Jake only gaped, his expression scandalized. He was used to only Fenrir talking to him like that. Lance came forward and ruffled Harry’s hair, still laughing.

“Fenrir’s rubbing off on you already, Harry? Merlin, two Fenrir, what has the world come to?”

Harry scowled and punched Lance in the gut, making the older werewolf pale as he lost his breath. Fenrir burst out laughing and wrapped an arm around Harry, pulling the raven close and nuzzling into his hair.

“Perfect, absolutely fucking perfect.” The man whispered into Harry’s hair.

“Shut up, Fenrir.” Harry growled, despite the blush creeping up his face. His mate merely laughed.

~oOo~

A month passed, and before Harry knew it, the full moon was tonight. That morning they had traveled the distance to the thick forest not far from Grimmauld Place. In that time frame, Harry learned a lot about the pack.

All of the pack members, with the exception of Harry, were in the age range between early thirties to early forties. The youngest were Tamera and Arick, and they were twenty-eight and twenty-nine respectively. Harry was seventeen; an adult by British law and mature by werewolf instinct. He still felt immature next to the rest of them—minus Byranna and her cronies—even with the experiences he had in life. He was used to being the ultimately mature one; this was like a breath a fresh air.

Fenrir himself was thirty-five and that didn’t bother Harry one bit. Werewolves aged physically slower than humans, he’d learned, but somehow matured faster. Even though Fenrir already had grey hairs—like, three little thin stripes that were barely noticeable—he would live at least another eighty years, making him well over one hundred. The same will happen to Harry. Hopefully they had many healthy pups till then.

Which brought Harry to his current problem. He had well and accepted that Fenrir was his mate but…they haven’t _done_ anything…reproductive. Not since the day Fenrir marked and claimed him as mate. The most Fenrir ever did was curl up behind Harry, spooning him, and that was only after Harry had fallen asleep. The only reason he knew Fenrir did it was because he had a habit of waking up early in the morning, before Fenrir; but he couldn’t ever get up because the beast of a man kept his arm tight around Harry, locking the young werewolf’s body to his. At some point Harry would always fall back asleep.

He was really confused. He knew Fenrir wanted him just as much as he wanted the man, but they barely even touched. Harry might’ve been a virgin, but he was a man with needs.

The day they went into the forest, Harry was decidedly fed up with it and went to Lance about it. In the past month he’d had grown extremely close to Lance and considered him a brother. The man was just too nice and friendly to think of otherwise. Harry took anything he didn’t understand to Lance, since he didn’t trust Fenrir and the man’s temper to tell him anything properly.

Lance was sitting in a rock, a little ways off from the little cave Fenrir had sulked off to once he spotted it, to ‘rid himself of the fucking ignorance of his pack’ apparently. Harry crawled up the rock and sat next to Lance, curling into the man’s side as a hug. Lance shifted, throwing his arm over Harry’s back but careful to not touch his chest or his waist and anything lower.

“What’s up, pup?”

Harry hesitated. “I have a question…about Fenrir.”

Lance quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? Do ask.”

Harry sat up and scooted a slight bit away, pulling his knees to his chest and curling his arms around them. “Well…I’m supposed to be Fenrir’s mate right? But…we haven’t… _done_ anything you know, mate-like.”

Lance stared at him for a second before laughing. “Harry, you have done something ‘mate-like’. Have you noticed how Fenrir, and _only_ Fenrir, has given you food?” Harry nodded slowly. “That’s because as your mate, Fenrir has to provide everything for you. And by accepting the food, you’re accepting the position as his mate. It was kind of like the beginnings of him claiming you, other than the…you know, marking.”

“Oh.” Harry glanced away then looked back up at Lance, cheeks red. “I meant well…something more…” His cheeks darkened further. “You know.”

Lance blinked at him before realization dawned on his face. “Oh…Oh, Harry. I…honestly don’t know what to tell you about that. He usually goes straight for it, you know and—shit, I’m not helping.” He backtracked at Harry’s expression. “Ok, personally? I think he might just be a little bit afraid. You’re so…little and he’s so…big. I think he’s afraid of breaking you, Harry. Really, I wish he would just claim you, because the rest of us are going crazy. It’s like…your scent isn’t complete, and our instincts are going wild because in our minds we know you are his mate, but the scent isn’t right so our wolves aren’t in agreement.”

Harry looked away. “So it’s not because I’m…unattractive?”

“Quite the opposite; Fenrir’s having a hard enough time resisting your charms now, which is why he doesn’t really spend that much time with you yet, but wait till you grow bit; he won’t let you go.” Lance blurted out, surprised.          

“Ok, thank you Lance.”

“No problem.”

The little raven wolf jumped from the rock and headed towards the rest of the pack, where they were watching Tamera and Emile wrestle. His steps were a bit lighter and he looked a bit happier. But unbeknownst to him, Fenrir had excellent hearing and heard everything he said.

The older werewolf stepped out of his cave and settled next to Lance, watching as Harry laughed alongside the pack at Tamera, who was currently in a headlock by Emile.

“He’s fitting so well into the pack, almost as if he was never human. Almost as if he was _made_ to be in this pack.” Lance murmured, watching Harry the same as Fenrir.

Fenrir only grunted and Lance glanced at him. “You heard our conversation; he accepted being your mate so well and now he’s expecting more than the little attention you give him. It’s obvious that the pup has a terribly low self esteem, for whatever reason, and you’re not helping by avoiding him.”  

“I know that, dammit.”

“Well then act like it!” Lance snapped, his face rarely in the scowl it was in now. “You don’t have to have fucking sex with him, Fenrir, not if you’re not confident with your control, but pay him some fucking attention. You pay the bitch Betas more attention.”

“Resisting him is—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. The rest of us are going through it worse than you because you won’t even fucking _claim_ him.” Fenrir growled. “ _Fuck_ you. The pup deserves more than your minimal attention. Now he has a family and you’re acting like a bitch.”

“I _know_ that—”

“Then _do_ something about it, I can’t stand to see the pup like that again, Fenrir. You didn’t see his face; he looked completely hopeless, like he was losing something all over again. Something big and something bad happened in his life and we need to help him through it. But we can’t do it if you keep running from him.”

With that, Lance jumped from the rock with a growl, planting a happy smile on his face as he walked towards the pack. Now, Tamera was wrestling with Arick, Harry cheering them both on happily. Fenrir watched as the young wolf turned, saw Lance and his smile grew wider, then his gaze flicked behind Lance, at Fenrir, and his grin faltered and he looked away, his face falling drastically. Fenrir scowled as he watched Lance try to cheer Harry back up and watch the fight.

Fenrir growled. He knew that he had to interact with Harry more. He just didn’t know how to fucking do it without jumping the little fucking vixen.


	8. Second Full Moon

Fenrir pulled Lance to the side and Harry stopped, looking at them curiously. Whatever Fenrir was saying, he didn’t want Harry to hear it. He knew they were talking about him; they kept on looking back at him. Lance nodded at something Fenrir said and walked towards Harry.

“Fenrir wants ya, Pup.” Harry glanced over at Fenrir.

The brunette wolf ambled over to a large oak tree, its branches almost bare except for a few straggling leaves brown and dying. He looked up at the tree and sat there, his head tilted against the trunk. Harry, curious but not enough to try and dare go over to the man, watched the man with avid interest, not even noticing when Lance smiled and walked away.  

It was rare that Harry every saw the man relaxed as he was now. Even when he slept, Fenrir was tensed and alert for any oncoming danger. It was his duty as the Alpha to his pack. He trusted Lance to watch the pack every once in a while if he felt like going out or something, but there was never a time when the both of them left without being in a short distance of getting back to the pack in less than a minute, running. Like there in the clearing; Harry could at the moment hear the sounds of laughter and grunts as someone wrestled.

The whole time Harry had been staring at Fenrir, but now he looked away and blushed as the man looked back at him. He was embarrassed that the man had caught him staring so intensely. He could hear Fenrir grunt and shift.

“C’mre, Harry.”

Harry blinked, shocked. Fenrir never called him Harry.

At Fenrir’s growl of impatience, Harry quickly made his way over to stand in front of the brunette. A sudden wind blew, making his messy, but now combed out, hair fly into his face. The same happened with Fenrir’s shorter hair and a lock fell into his eyes. Harry was tempted to push it away but he wasn’t sure how Fenrir would react.

Said man sighed and reached up, yanking Harry down into his lap. Harry gave a small yelp and tried to scramble up, but Fenrir’s long, strong arms came around and held him tightly in place. He shifted until both he and Harry were in comfortable positions, his chin resting on top of Harry’s head. Harry was tense, unsure of what Fenrir was planning to do. It was the most touching Fenrir ever did to him awake, usually only cuddling up against Harry when he was asleep.

A moment of silence passed where they just sat there. Harry knew that Fenrir had something that he wanted to tell him, but didn’t know how to say it. Harry was okay with waiting; he grew up perfecting the art of silence around the Dursleys, who hated for him to make any type of noise, to remind them that _he_ was a part of the family. Taking into consideration that Fenrir actually _planned_ to talk to him, Harry was content to wait in silence, curled up in Fenrir’s lap.

He was actually beginning to doze off when the man spoke, his voice low and deep. Unused to hearing Fenrir’s voice so close and so deep, Harry shivered. Fenrir must’ve thought that it was because of the cold; his arms tightened around Harry and he sort of hunched over, blocking some of the wind from Harry. The man himself only wore jeans and a thin t-shirt, no shoes as always, but was much warmer than Harry.

“I know that I came off as an asshole when we first met but I hadn’t been in a good mood to begin with.” To Harry, this sounded like the beginnings of an apology, though he was certain Fenrir wouldn’t out right say it. “But we were stuck in that cell together and I pretty much had no choice to but to be…nice to you or else I would’ve gone crazy. And then you turned out to be a lot more interesting than I thought…”

Fenrir faded off, probably not sure where to go anymore with his speech. If he could, Harry would’ve twisted in Fenrir’s lap to hug him, but instead he settled with reaching up and twisting his fingers through Fenrir’s.

“Fen…?”

Their eyes locked as Fenrir looked down at him. “I chose you as my mate for a reason. I’ve had a lot of other mates, yeah, but they were all women. You’re the first male mate I’ve ever taken. That means something, Harry. So stop fucking sulking so goddamn much. I promised we’d be together on the full moon, right?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “So tonight?”

“As wolves, yes.” Fenrir leaned forward and kissed Harry hard. “I’m going to fuck you so hard your eyes will be permanently crossed.” 

~oOo~

Harry wriggled with slight discomfort as the sun finally set. He sat naked on the forest floor, in Fenrir’s lap, and said man, also naked, growled at Harry’s movements. There was no need for clothes as they would’ve just ripped out of them with the change. 

The man had suddenly walked up to him and practically demanded that they were together for their first change as mates. And Harry’s first change in a pack. Harry’s been so happy that he leapt into Fenrir’s arms and kissed his mate hard. Fenrir had been surprised, but pleased, if the smirk that was still on his face was anything to go by.

“Calm down, pup.” He bit Harry’s ear. “Moving around ain’t getting nothin’ up but my dick.”

Harry blushed and stopped wriggling, craning his head back to look at Fenrir. “Oh, but I get so impatient. I can feel it, right there. It’s killing me, Fen.”

Fenrir smirked and his chest puffed out in pride of his mate. No doubt because of Harry’s easily assimilation to the wolf life. Harry’s body might’ve been a bit weak, but his mind and will were on par with Fenrir’s; his tongue sharp and witty. It was so simple for him to become the Alpha Bitch, easily putting himself in a top position, second only to Fenrir and sometimes Lance when Fenrir left him in charge. Fenrir remembered clearly when he allowed Remus into the pack and they didn’t take to it so well.

They’d all gotten a tongue lashing so bad from Harry; Fenrir hadn’t even felt a need to interfere for his own pride’s sake. All his satisfaction went to his wonderfully strong submissive and the way he so easily fell into his position without complain or abuse of such position. All Fenrir’s previous bitches either whined because they didn’t get enough, or were constantly nagging his men and demanding things of them, trying to overtake Fenrir’s head position (a/n: hee hee). Needless to say, all of Fenrir’s previous bitches had been female—though he preferred men, Fenrir was never sure how his pack woulf take to him having a male mate until Harry appeared—and also needless to say, Fenrir killed every single one of them with a rare, genuinely happy smile on his face.

Harry knew all about Fenrir’s previous bitches. The man ensured that Harry knew that he wasn’t some celibate bitch. Harry, naturally, couldn’t give two fucks, much to Fenrir’s delight. It would seem that all the other bitches always complained at the number of the ones before them, not realizing that there were so many because Fenrir kept killing them in a fit of rage and that they’d be next if they didn’t shut the fuck up. Harry was aware of Fenrir’s age and the long time anger the man carried. It was so easy to tell what the other bitches did for there to be so many of them, and he knew that with Fenrir’s anger, having a lot of bitches before him was inevitable, even more so with the man’s age.

But Harry didn’t plan on getting killed anytime soon. Fuck dying; he didn’t want to lose a chance at having a family. It was all he’d ever wanted and all be damned if he, boy-who-lived-to-have-hyphened-names-like-this-one-to-state-the-obvious, would die after getting one. He’d _kill_ before he let that happened. He finally got a true family and he wasn’t letting them go. Now, if only he could somehow get Fenrir to accept the twins, Harry’d be truly happy.

Draco had wormed his way into Michal’s heart, but the quiet Russian wolf said nothing to the blonde. Harry knew that Draco knew, however, because the older teen had confided in him and asked of his opinion, much to the raven’s shock. It was rather obvious to Harry that Draco was also feeling something for Michal, but it seemed that the blonde hadn’t realized it. He suggested that Draco wait a little bit longer to see if Michal would do anything, and if he didn’t, then Draco should confront them. Harry and Fenrir betted that by the next full moon, Draco would be a werewolf.

Bryanna avoided Harry like the plague, which both he and Fenrir had noticed and didn’t care. Fenrir had told him, however, that should Bryanna try anything to break them up, he would gladly rip her to pieces. After torturing her, of course. Harry almost told him not to, but then realized that he was only saying so automatically and not because he didn’t want her tortured. Then he realized that he told Fenrir not to do this and that a lot and vowed to never do it again. Merlin forbid he turned into the next Molly Weasley, nagging Fenrir into a resigned submission. Not that Fenrir could ever be  pulled into submission. He would probably kill Harry before that.

Suddenly, the moon shone, cutting off Harry’s thought process as his wolf spirit rose to meet and meld with his human one. He took in a deep, gasping breath and felt Fenrir’s chest rise as his mate did the same. He shuddered as pain came over his body, cutting off the exhilarating feeling.

The process was faster and less painful than before, and Harry was grateful for that. It was easier for the rest of the pack, who’d all done it more than quadruple times the number as him. Theirs all went faster too; Harry barely noted as the pack came to surround him, the feeling of one single rough tongue on his skin and fur, comforting and helping him through the transformation.

But soon it all passed and before the pack stood a gorgeously regal, jet black wolf, vibrant dark green eyes peering at them all. There was only one mar, though to call it a mar was inaccurate, that wasn’t there before. Starting from under his jaw was a long, dark grey streak that curled down to his shoulder; marking him as a claimed sub. The color of the streak would be confusing, had not Harry’s mate stood beside him; his fur a beautiful shade of stormy dark grey, swirls of black and a slightly lighter grey whirling from his forehead and down his back. Piercing, icy dark grey eyes met Harry’s green gaze.

Recognizing his mate, Harry sat on his haunches and tilted his head to the side, giving a low whine. Fenrir huffed and moved forward, rubbing his muzzle against Harry’s before moving downwards to bury his nose in Harry’s claimed mark, growling in satisfaction. Harry stood stock still, his trepidation growing.

“Fenrir?”    

Feeling his mate’s unease, Fenrir’s head rose and his eyes locked with Harry’s. After a heartbeat passed, he gently bumped his head to Harry’s and licked his muzzle. Harry stared at him in astonishment, mentally noting that Fenrir was more affectionate when he was a wolf—though conveniently forgetting that he more than likely wouldn’t remember in the morning—and hesitantly leaned forward to do the same to Fenrir’s muzzle.

Apparently, it was the correct thing to do as Fenrir gave him a wolfy smirk that inevitably looked more like a snarl and looked up to the pack, who still sat there, though not quite patiently. He gave a short bark, a command, and tossed his head.

“Get the fuck outta here. Go hunt, go have fun.”

The pack jumped up, barking and yipping—with the exception of Bryanna and Renee, who sneered at them—and ran off into the forest. Remus, who Harry could now tell was probably the same size as Lance, if a bit skinnier, gave him a long look before running off after the rest.

Fenrir glanced at Harry and leaned down to nudge his body forward. Harry stood so he didn’t fall and trotted after Fenrir, who’d almost immediately went for the forest. He naturally assumed the position at Fenrir’s left flank, not realizing he was in the rightfully place as Fenrir’s mate. His right flank was left open for the return of his lead Beta, Lance.

Fenrir glanced at Harry, increasing his speed until he was full out running. He howled, listening to the returning howls of his pack. Harry lolled out a wolfy grin and barked. The hunt was on. 

~oOo~

Harry woke wrapped in Fenrir’s arms, the sun beating down on his completely bare body, warming him. He frowned. A little too warm in fact. He opened his eyes and looked up as much as he could around his beast’s steel arms. That’s why he was so warm; the pack surrounded him and Fenrir, conserving heat and providing the Alphas with the most heat.

Lance was closest to them, on Harry’s other side actually, at a respectful distance that wouldn’t get him killed by Fenrir. He was there as the lead Beta, Fenrir’s right hand man; there to immediately take control of the pack if Fenrir left for whatever reason and also to provide Harry with heat in the night if, again, Fenrir left for whatever reason. Surrounding him, Fenrir, and Lance was Emile, Seth, Michal, and Remus—who automatically had a high position as Fenrir’s childe and the third biggest wolf after Lance—as the higher Betas and at the edges of the pile, taking in the least bit of heat, were Jake and Arick—the lower Betas. Bryanna refused to sleep anywhere near Harry, and her cronies followed her mindlessly, so they all slept huddled under a tree.

Wriggling about till he rolled over in his mate’s arms, Harry looked up at the sleeping face of Fenrir. The man was deeply asleep, but tense, on alert. If Harry let out the softest of sounds, Fenrir would more than likely wake up immediately. On one hand, Harry wanted to do just that. On the other hand…he wanted a peaceful morning. His _bladder_ though, told a whole other story. He stretched as much as he could and rubbed his nose against Fenrir’s jaw. His mate shifted and let out a grunt.

“Go back to sleep, Pup.”

“I have to fucking pee, Fenrir.”

The older man growled out something Harry couldn’t hear and tightened his arms. “Well then fucking hold it. I’m comfortable.”

Harry glared at him, even though Fenrir couldn’t see it. “I swear to Merlin, I will _piss_ on you if you don’t fucking let me—”

“Al- _right.”_ He snapped, releasing Harry who quickly stood. “But come right back.”

“Where else am I going to go, Fenrir? Malfoy Manor?” Harry ran off before Fenrir could respond, though the man’ll get his revenge later more than likely, and pissed on one of the trees. 

He yawned and looked around, humming along with the lively sound of the forest life around him. It was a beautiful morning…or afternoon, whichever. He felt great after last night’s transformation. Much better than he felt after the first one. A memory of Fenrir trying to teach him to hunt passed and he chuckled, pulling up his pants. He headed back to the sleeping pile just as Arick, Remus, and Emile stretched and yawned, sitting up. He smiled a good morning as the three nuzzled their faces into his side, a reassurance that he was fine.

“Morning, Alpha.” The three chorused, rising and stretching more. Emile turned and kicked Michal awake.

“Come on, you lazy fuck. We’re going to hunt for breakfast.” He looked up at the sun, squinting a little. “Scratch that. We’re hunting for lunch.”

Michal groaned but stood, also yawning and stretching. He leaned down and nuzzled his face in Harry’s hair. “Morning Alpha pup.”

Harry grinned and watched as they ran off, Remus and Arick following after. Well, at least until Fenrir yanked him down and curled those steel arm bands around him. He squirmed. 

“Dammit, Fenrir!”

“Shut up, pup.”

Beside him, Lance shifted and reached out to ruffle Harry’s hair. “Just go back to sleep, pup.” He said in a sleepy voice. “We’ll all wake up with they come back from hunting.”

Harry huffed but closed his eyes, falling asleep to the rise and fall of Fenrir’s chest as his mate breathed. He dreamed of last night, about the hunt and playing around with the others and later on, curling up with Fenrir after eating and letting his mate clean his muzzle before doing the same. He dreamt about Fenrir touching him, kissing him, doing things to him…but none of that could’ve happened; Fenrir had been a wolf all night, and in this part of his dream Fenrir was human. He suddenly blinked awake, sitting up. Beside him, Fenrir was standing, his back cracking as he stretched. The man looked down at Harry.

“Up, pup. They’re back from hunting.”

Brow furrowed, Harry looked at where he was pointing. Indeed—Emile, Michal, Remus, Ariche, and a guilty looking Tamera were back; two decent bucks and a doe with them. One of the bucks was going to be skinned and cut to be taken back to number twelve. The other buck and the doe were for them to eat. The rest of the pack was already there, waiting for Harry and Fenrir to eat first; as the Alpha’s, they got the first, and best, pieces of each meal. Harry stood and stretched quickly, following after Fenrir.

He sat in a daze as he waited for Fenrir to hand him his piece. He could’ve stopped Fenrir from doing that, but he saw the carefulness in which Fenrir did it, the faint happiness in his expression; hinting that his previous bitches never let him do it. Harry didn’t really mind it, except for when Fenrir tried to feed him more when he was already full, which he hated but was supposed to give him energy and strength or whatever. Not that it mattered anyway. A nudge brought Harry from his thoughts.

“Pup?” He looked up dully at Fenrir, at the piece of meat his mate was holding out. With no emotion, he took the meat and bit into it. Fenrir’s brow furrowed, but the man didn’t pry.

For the rest of the day, Harry walked around lifelessly, even after they returned to Grimmauld Place. He felt empty, unwanted. He couldn’t believe what Fenrir did…or lack thereof. He knew Lance was wrong. He knew Fenrir was going to lie. Fenrir didn’t want him; last night was proof. Last night was supposed to be _the_ night…but nothing happened. He should’ve known better. Who could trust a serial killer, anyway?

It wasn’t until later that evening, after Harry’s sulking and Fenrir stomping around because of Harry’s sulking, that Lance pulled the young wolf into the backyard. Harry looked up at him with a blank expression, no hint of his current troubled thoughts.

“Harry, what’s wrong? You’ve been out of it all day, since you woke up at lunch. Did something happen last night—?”

“ _Nothing_ happened last night. That’s the problem.” Harry interrupted with surprising vehemence.

Lance blinked once, his lips tightening slightly. He looked away with a slight snarl. “I told that fucking idiot…Pup, don’t take what Fenrir’s doing to heart. I know he promised you for last night… but personally, and don’t let him know I told you this, even though this is my second time telling you; I think he’s afraid. Fenrir’s a rough guy. Majority of the time he hurt the bitches before you. And you’re currently much weaker than they were. You know how strong Fenrir is, and that’s with steel control over his muscles. He wouldn’t have that much control in wolf from; he might’ve killed you if he mounted you last night. Do you understand?”

Harry looked away, blinking away tears. “Yeah, but he could’ve told me that.” He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. “I feel so empty, Lance. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do.”

“Talk to him. Yell at him if he doesn’t listen. Do something, don’t cry. You brighten up this place, pup; we can’t afford to have you sad.”

Harry sniffed and nodded. Lance smiled and patted his head, before giving a pointed look behind him. He turned and saw Fenrir lashing out on Jake, and though Harry was sure the idiot deserved whatever he was getting yelled at about, anger built in him upon seeing how…normal his mate was acting, unable to see Harry’s turbulence. Taking a deep breath, he approached Fenrir and touched the man’s shoulder, cutting off whatever he was about to say. He waited until his mate looked down at him to speak. 

"We need to talk." Fenrir frowned and opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off. " _Now."_


	9. Passionate Anger

“What the fuc—?”

“Shut up.” Harry growled out, ignoring the incredulous expression on Fenrir’s face. He’d dragged the man upstairs into his—well, lately Harry couldn’t help but think of it as their—room, forgetting to close the door as he turned, facing the older, larger man.

“I’m sick of this Fenrir. You keep on dancing around me, and I can’t fucking take it. I’ve had too much shit in my life to have to deal with you being too fucking _afraid_ to have sex with me, your _mate,_ the person who will _give you pups—.”_

Almost too quick for Harry to see, Fenrir moved forward and pinned him against the cave wall. “You think I’m afraid?”

“No. I _know_ you’re afraid, Fenrir.” Harry’s breath hitched. “Or do you just want to wait until I get all desolate and cry all over the place? Does that give you kicks?”

Smut~~

Fenrir growled and shoved their lips together. Harry gasped, indirectly allowing Fenrir access into his mouth. He tried to push the man away, but Fenrir was much stronger than him. He moaned when Fenrir’s rough hand kneaded at the skin on his hip where his shirt hitched up. 

He reached up and wrapped his arms around Fenrir’s neck, curling one hand into that thick, dark hair to pull Fenrir closer. Fenrir pressed him harder into the wall and Harry keened, pushing himself into Fenrir’s body. He gasped at the sudden burst of heat that filled his body, pulling his lips from Fenrir. The man was unfazed, ducking down to kiss his way down Harry’s neck. He growled once he reached Harry’s shirt collar, ripping off the shirt with one sharp tug. Harry gasped as the cold air hit his warm body, immediately making goose bumps appear and hardening his nipples. His gasp was cut off with a choke as Fenrir leaned down and captured one of his nipples in his mouth, flicking the nub with his tongue. The wet heat sent electric currents through Harry body and he moaned loudly, arching his body into Fenrir. The older wolf released his nipple and looked up at him from lust filled eyes; the desire darkening his icy grey eyes to a storm, their pupils exploding from the center.

“ _This_ is what gives me kicks, pup. I told you this already; how you make me react. There isn’t a moment in the day when I don’t want to drop you to the ground and fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to walk for a week.” 

Harry sucked in a sharp breath and the heat pulsing through his body increased, his cock aching for release already. “Why don’t you?”

Fenrir straightened and grabbed Harry’s chin. “Because I have no doubt that you would break, pup.”

“Not true.”

“Last night you could barely hunt. You grew tired so easily and couldn’t keep up with the others.”

“Bullshit. They’re all older than me _and_ they’re all dominates. Of course I couldn’t keep up.”

“Pup…” Fenrir pulled his hand away and Harry grabbed it, pressing it to his crotch and gasping as the heat increased.

“You feel this, Fenrir? You do _this_ to me. I want you, but you keep pushing me away. I can take it; I’ve been through a lot worse, believe me.”

Fenrir stiffened. “The Dursleys?”

“Dammit, Fenrir! That’s not important at this moment.” He let go of Fenrir’s hand and used both of his own to grab his mate’s face. “I’ll tell you later, I promise. But for now…can you just believe me? I want this so bad, Fenrir…I want _you_ so bad. I…I’ve never—…I’ve never—”

Fenrir suddenly buried his face in Harry’s neck and took a deep breath. He grumbled out a growl. “You’re in heat, pup.”

“Really?” Harry said breathlessly, unable to keep still as his body shivered. “Is that what this hot feeling is? Thi—this is my first—”

Fenrir cut him off with another hard kiss, one hand staying on his hip and the other, the one on his crotch, kneaded his cock through his pants. Harry clutched at Fenrir’s shirt and moaned into the man’s mouth. He was just beginning to thrust to the movement of Fenrir’s hand when someone clearing their throat stopped him. They both looked up to see Lance standing at the open door and Fenrir growled, shifting to cover Harry’s body with his own.

“What?”

“If you two are going to do what the whole pack is laughing about what you’re going to do, then I’m guessing that I’m watching the pack for the rest of the night.” Fenrir only growled and Lance rocked on his heels. “Alrighty then. I’m going to send them out on one last hunt for the supply before going to bed. Don’t keep everyone up all night.” With one wink at Harry, he left. Harry looked up at Fenrir expectantly, his teeth slightly bared.

“Calm down, pup.” He let Harry go and ambled over to the large bed, his hard erection making it hard to walk, and pushed off the pillows.

Grinning salaciously, Harry slipped past Fenrir and spread himself on the duvet, the dark green contrasting with his pale skin and making his eyes glow brightly. Fenrir growled at him and crawled atop Harry, pulling his own shirt off. Harry reached up and pulled Fenrir into another hard kiss. The man always tasted something spicy and smoky, much like his scent.

Fenrir rolled his hips down on Harry and the young wolf jerked at the hot electric shocks going through his body. Harry arched his back, pushing his pelvis into Fenrir’s, and let out a loud moan. Fenrir responded with a growl and released Harry’s mouth, moving down the raven’s body and leaving a hot trail of kisses on his way. Harry writhed, wanting more, and gently scratched at Fenrir’s back. The larger wolf rose up and quickly pulled off Harry’s trousers, lifting the teen’s legs and ducking between them.

Harry gasped at the sudden wetness at his hole, wriggling its way inside of him. He writhed at the unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling until Fenrir hit a certain spot that made his eyes widen and his back arch at the exploding supernova of heat spreading through his body. He gasped and dug his fingers into Fenrir’s shoulders. Fenrir kept pushing at the spot, pushing and pushing, until Harry finally came, his mouth falling open in a silent moan and his vision filled with white light.

He fell back from his arch, panting hard, and opened his eyes to see Fenrir looking down at him with a proud snarl twisting his reddened lips. “What was that?”

“That, my pup, was your sweet spot; your prostate. Feels good, huh?” Harry nodded. “It had better. But we’re not done yet.” Harry was filled with confusion until _something else_ began to fill him.

He blinked at the sudden intrusion, but tried to relax. He had no experience with sex, but expected something much bigger than his asshole pushing in the wrong direction than natural would hurt. He _did_ know from experience that relaxing when something hurt lessened the pain. Fortunately, the pain suddenly disappeared with the return of the burning heat rushing through his body.

Fenrir pushed until he was in to the hilt, until Harry could barely breathe from the feeling of being so full. He forced himself to take a deep breath, letting it out a microsecond before Fenrir pulled out and rammed into him. He gasped, back arching and fingers scrambling at Fenrir’s back.

Two more thrusts and Harry’s erection was again at full mast. He moaned and writhed beneath Fenrir, who was relentless in his force. Heat coiled in Harry’s lower abdomen and he moaned again. Above him, Fenrir growled and began to thrust faster. Harry’s fingers dug into Fenrir’s back, body bowing upwards, as he came again. Fenrir also came, letting go with a roar as he curved his body over Harry’s, biting into the raven’s shoulder. He tensed as he knotted into the smaller man, body shaking with tension until slowly—hours later—his knot disappeared and they continued.

Again and again they went at it, all night, as Harry’s heat would allow no less. There was hardly time for a break in between; though Harry was sore and tired, he wanted more and more. Each time he came long and hard, arching his back at a near unnatural angle.

~~

Harry blinked away the last of the white spots blocking his vision and took a shuddering deep breath. Fenrir was on top of him, careful to balance his weight on his arms braced on either side of Harry’s head as to not crush his mate. Harry looked up and grinned at Fenrir.

“Told you I wouldn’t break. I’m made of tougher stuff.” Fenrir grunted and rolled over, pulling Harry into him and spooning the young wolf. Harry frowned and wriggled at the feeling of Fenrir still inside him. “Fenrir…don’t you think you should pull out?”

Fenrir growled and nipped his ear. “Nope. Now go to fuckin’ sleep.”

Harry huffed but did as he was told, closing his eyes. A smile graced his lips. He and Fenrir had sex, a lot of it. It was during his heat, so Fenrir wouldn’t have been able to resist either way, but Harry was still happy. Maybe he was pregnant. It would just make it all the better if he could give Fenrir pups only after their first time.

He felt Fenrir’s arms tighten around him unconsciously and he laid his arms on top of his mate’s.  Fenrir was already asleep. He’d been much more gentle than Harry’s thought he’d be; maybe he was doing that for Harry’s sake. Harry frowned; he’d make sure that the next time they had sex he’d make Fenrir loose all control. It was only fair to his mate.

~oOo~

a/n: fuck you guyz, stop demanding this out of me…*pouty face*

Draco stifled a laugh as Remus’ face paled once again, only letting it out when the man stormed out of the room, grumbling and leaving him alone in the sitting room. It took the blonde but a moment to figure out what was taking Harry and Fenrir so long upstairs, only the smirk Lance was sporting as the Beta came downstairs alerting him to what could be possibly going on. Then he saw Remus pale and could not resist laughing. He was just glad that he didn’t have the super hearing the rest of the pack had.

Apparently, hearing sex was a lot more common to the wolves than believable. Fenrir was the only one who ever had a mate before—multiple in the Alpha’s case—and according to the pack, Fenrir was one horny son of a bitch. The sounds they more than likely could hear were something they were already used and therefore unaffected except for the occasional giggle.

Unfortunately, Lance had sent Michal with Emile and a reluctantly Bryanna to go hunt for the supply or whatever. Draco couldn’t figure out why they needed to hunt when it was simple to send Kreacher to go get groceries. Then he thought about it for a moment and realized that they were fucking wolves and if there was nothing wolves loved to do more, it was hunt for prey. Stocking up the supply was just a cover-up for them to go out and entertain themselves.

Draco, however, knew better ways Michal could be entertained. Not that much different from what Harry and Fenrir were up there doing. He noticed the looks Michal gave him, as they were the same ones he himself gave the man. But apparently the man was completely oblivious. He knew Michal was not an idiot in any sense—as if he, Draco Malfoy, would associate with anyone of such low intellect—but the man was unaware of anything unless it punched him in the face.

Though he was hesitant to admit it, Draco knew he was falling for Michal. And hard. It was impossible for him not to. Everything about Michal seemed to fit with him perfectly. The werewolf was quiet, but had a presence that was hard to ignore, a bit like Emile. Everyone valued his opinion, and he was unanimously the go-to guy when anyone needed advice. He was serious, and more often than not straight-faced, but could be as vulgar as Fenrir and had a sense of humor that was on par with the Twins. And it didn’t hurt that his slight accent was sexy as hell. The way he rolled the ‘r’, accompanied by his softer pronunciation of the sharper sounding ‘a’, in Draco’s name was enough to send the blonde to the moon.

The arms wrapping around him, a slightly stubbly cheek pressing into his smoother one, had Draco freezing up, hand straying towards his wand.

“No need for dat, Draco.” Michal’s smooth, dark voice reassured. Draco relaxed and leaned into Michal’s chest, a faint smell of blood reaching his nose, though he ignored it. “It is only me, no? You ‘ave no reason to fear me.”

“I know.” Draco looked up with a small smile tilting his lips. Michal rubbed their cheeks together. “Michal, you are going to give me a stubble rash.”

“And it will be zee most beautivul stubble rash in zee world.” The Russian purred into Draco’s ear, making the blonde flush. “See? Red looks so pretty on you.”

Draco smacked Michal’s arm, snorting. “Oh stop it, you big flirt.”

“Vee-lurt? Draco, what is dis you speak of?”

“A flirt?” Draco blinked in surprise. “Well…it is, um—.”

He was interrupted by Michal’s laugh. “I kid, Draco. I know what a vee—…a flirt is.”

The blonde’s cheeks heated once again. “You git. That is not funny at all. I find no humor in this. Stop laughing, Michal.” His last sentence was an uncharacteristic whine.

Michal tightened his arms around Draco’s waist.  “I am sorry, my Dragon. But it was vunny, a little. I could not ‘elp it.”    

But Draco crossed his arms and glared at the wall in front of him. “Yes, you could have. And no, it was not funny at all.”

“If I tell you someding, will you be willing to vorgive me, no?” Michal’s hesitant voice and Draco turned around, eyeing the man’s face tight with anticipation.

“It depends on what it is, Michal.”

The Russian huffed out a relieved sigh and grabbed Draco’s hands, those dark blue eyes looking into his grey ones. “Draco, last night, I spent majority of it meezerable. Do you know why?”

Draco shook his head slowly, unable to tear his eyes away from Michal’s strong stare. “No, I do not.” He whispered faintly. 

“Because you were not dere with me.” He chuckled when Draco’s eyes widened. “Yes. I could not stop staring at zee Alphas without a sense of longing veeling me. Dey looked so happy, as Veenrir tried to teach ‘Arry to ‘unt. I wanted to do dat with someone—no, I wanted to do dat with you, Draco. I want you by my side as ‘Arry is beside Veenir. As my mate. As my woolv.”

“You…” To say the least, Draco was lost for words. Michal looked at him imploringly, face sincere and full of love.

Honestly, Draco didn’t know what to say. He only knew Michal for a month, but he could not deny his feelings for the man. And finally hearing Michal practically confess his own feelings filled Draco with such happiness. It was just so perfect.   

Too perfect.

He learned the hard way from Harry that whenever something so good happened, something equally bad would follow soon after.  It was how Harry fell for that stupid trap Voldemort set up.

“Draco?”

Said blonde looked up to find Michal looking at him with his dark brows drawn. Michal bit his lip and began to pull away. Obviously, he was expecting a rejection. Panicking, Draco grabbed the Russian’s face between his palms and kissed him hard. He only pulled away when his chest began to hurt from lack of air and his head felt dizzy.

“Yes.” He said breathlessly, laughing a little. “Fuck, of course I will be your mate, Michal, why the hell would I not?”

Michal’s eyes lit up and he wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, picking up the blonde and spinning him around. “Yes, yes, yes.   _O, kak ya lyublyu tebya, moy prekrasnyy Drakona. Moya lyubov'. Moya zhizn'. Vozdukh, chtoby dyshat', krov' v moikh zhilakh, serdtse u menya v grudi. Byt' shakhty, vo veki vekov, moy Drakon._ ”

Draco’s eyes widened. “What does all that mean, Michal?”

The Russian grinned and leaned forward until his lips brushed Draco’s ear. “Oh, how I love you, my beautiful Dragon. My love. My life. The air I breathe, the blood in my veins, the heart in my chest. Be mine, forever and ever, my Dragon.”

~oOo~

When Harry went downstairs the next morning—Fenrir was so deeply asleep that his arm was a bit looser than usual and Harry had been able to wriggle out—he could tell something was different.

No, it was not the fact he had lost his virginity. No, it was not the fact that his lower back was killing him. Nor was it the smirks the more childish ones in the pack—including the Twins, who must’ve been informed—were giving him. Or the vicious glares a pissed Bryanna continued to send him. Or the way Remus purposely wouldn’t look at him. No, it in fact had nothing to do with his and Fenrir’s copulation the night prior. He actually couldn’t pinpoint what it was until his gaze landed on Draco and Michal.

Before his mind had even processed what had changed, he was already across the room and pulling Draco into a hug. The others didn’t know what the hell was going on, looking at the two curiously. Harry—after his mind had pieced itself back together—assumed it had something to do with his role as the Alpha Bitch. Maybe he could sense things like that. He pulled away and gave Draco a large grin.

“Congratulations, Draco. I was wondering when you two would get around to confessing to each other.”

Draco flushed as surprised exclamations echoed in the kitchen. A ruefully grinning Michal alerted Harry that he had kind of just outed his friend and pack mate. He scratched the back of his head.

“Oops?”

“Damn right.” Draco glared. “We were waiting on you and Fenrir to come downstairs before we told everyone, thank you very much. How did you know, anyway?”

Harry shrugged. “I’m Harry Potter.”

“You can’t use that as an excuse for everything, you know.

Before Harry could respond, Seth brought up a subject that chilled him to the bone.

“Hey, Draco? Are you going to tell your dad? I mean, he hasn’t disowned you as of yet, right?”

A curious look came over Draco’s face. “Hmm, you’re right. Harry?” He noticed Harry’s ashen face.

The raven swallowed hard, balling his fists. “Draco, can we talk for a moment?”

“Okay.” The blonde’s brow furrowed as he followed Harry into the sitting room.

Harry collapsed into an armchair and dropped his head into his hands. Draco, concerned, went over to place a hand on Harry’s back. Only for Harry to flinch away from him.

“Harry? What is the matter?”

“Oh, Merlin. Draco…I should’ve told you this a long time ago…” Harry took a shuddering breath, his voice slightly muffled by his hands. “Lucius Malfoy is dead, Draco. That day when I woke up all sick before the pack came—I watched as Voldemort killed him. I was Voldemort. That’s why I was so sick; I could feel it…all of it.”

He looked up slowly when he received no response from Draco. The blonde had slowly back away from him, brow furrowed as he shook his head. Harry swallowed.

“Draco—.”

“No!” Harry flinched as Draco began to shout. “A month?! A whole fucking month you waited to tell me my fucking _father_ is dead?! Who the hell does that? Why?! Why would you wait so long to tell me, Harry?! Did you think keeping it from me would be any better?!”

“No, Draco I—.” Harry sobbed, breath hitching.  

“I don’t want to hear your bullshit! How could you do this to me?!” By now, tears were also streaming down Draco’s face, though his voice was still strong. “I trusted you! You betrayed my trust!”

“I know.” Harry cried. “I’m so sorry, Draco.”

Before Draco could respond, another voice interrupted. “What the hell is all this yellin’?”

Both teens looked over to find Fenrir standing in the doorway, eyes closed with one hand rubbing through his hair and the other buried in the front of his pajama bottoms. He wore no shirt, easily showing off the bites and scratch marks Harry left the night before. Well. Someone was awfully proud.

Harry swallowed and tried to look away before Fenrir noticed his tears, but the werewolf had a strong sense of smell. He could easily sniff out the salty tears coming out of Harry’s eyes and a low, warning growl rumbled out of his chest as he crossed the room and pulled his mate into his arms. A second later, the entire pack, plus the Twins, were in the room, looking around wildly on high alert. They were confused to find a teary Draco glaring at Harry and the equally teary raven trembling in Fenrir’s arms.

“Fenrir?” Lance looked between the two teens. “What happened?”

“I dunno. But my Pup is crying.” He leveled a glare at Draco. “I assume he did something.”

Draco was unfazed by the look. “Did you know too? About my father?”

Fenrir’s eyes narrowed as he nodded slowly. “I pulled it out of Harry a few days after he had the vision. Why?”

“So you too? How could you?” Draco’s voice was heartbroken, but angry. “After what I did for you. What I sacrificed—.”

“Sacrificed?” Fenrir snorted, arms tightening as Harry whimpered lightly. “What did you sacrifice, Draco? A mother who never gave two shits about you, no matter how much you loved her, and a father who wanted to sell you off to a madman to gain his favor. Tell me, what sacrifice do you speak of?”

“They were my parents! I have a right to know immediately if either one of them were killed!” 

“Get out of your fuckin’ ass, Draco!” Fenrir roared. “If anything, you should be dancing in joy that your shitty father is dead! And fuck your rights! Did you even think about how Harry feels about all this?! No, because you are so fuckin’ full of yourself. He woke up _violently sick_ after that vision, Draco, do you really think he was keeping it to himself to hurt you?! Did you ever think he was keeping it to himself because he knew you would react exactly like this?! Or how about the fucking guilt that has been eating away at him and leaving him restless at night sometimes because he was keeping it from you?! Or maybe because he wanted you to be happy, to not have your fucking father’s death over your head?! Did you think of any of this?! No, because you’re so fucking conceited and egotistic that you probably don’t even care about how anyone else feels!” Fenrir sneered. “Like father, like son, I guess. Lucius Malfoy lost the most important person to him because he was so full of himself. I suggest you don’t do the same. Michal only tolerates so much, no matter how much he cares. Russians have a strong temper.”

And with that, Fenrir picked up Harry bridal style—making sure the raven’s face was tucked into his chest so that no one else saw it—and carried him from the shocked silent room. His arms tightened as Harry shivered lightly.

“Harry?” He rumbled softly as they entered their shared bedroom.

“Yes?” The raven’s voice was small and broken.

Fenrir sighed. “Fucking bastard blondie. Harry, Draco can go fuck off. You did nothing wrong.”

Harry’s eye filled with tears again. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. “But I did. I always do, dammit. I always fuck up everything. I’m cursed. I always hurt those close to me. Draco, my parents, all my friends, the Weasleys, Dumbledore…”

“Harry…” Fenrir sighed, cupping Harry’s face in his rough palms. He wasn’t any good at this comforting crap. “You have to stop blamin’ yourself. Everything happens for a reason. Tell me, if you hadn’t fallen for that trap, would we have ever met?”

“No.” The raven whispered.

“And would I have ever turned you into a wolf?”

“No.”

“And would we have ever become mates?”

“No…” Harry sniffed. “But Fen…”

“Shh.” Fenrir pulled him into a hug. “Listen, whatever the fuck is up with Draco, he will get over it. He cares about you just as much as you care about him, okay? Let him calm down, blow off some steam. He’ll forgive you, don’t worry about it.”

Harry sighed softly in relief, his eyelids growing heavy as emotional exhaustion crept up on him. “Okay, Fen, if you say so.”

“Yeah, I do say so. Now go to sleep. I’ll handle the pack.”

“No.” Harry gripped his shirt. “Stay with me, please.”

Fenrir growled low, but crept into the bed beside his mate. The raven sighed happily, giving the man a sleepy smile, and that was all it took for Fenrir to give in completely. He relaxed into the bed and pulled Harry close. The teen nuzzled his face into Fenrir’s neck.

“Love you, Fen.” He mumbled before falling off to sleep, completely missing Fenrir look of shock and wonder.


	10. Captured

Harry groaned as he threw up again. The whole pack was in hysterics after Harry woke up one morning throwing up everywhere. It was almost a month after he and Fenrir had sex for the first time and they’d done twice more since then.

Lance believed that it was more than likely Harry was pregnant, since they had sex during his heat. Fenrir yelled at Lance for an hour about why he didn’t say so earlier and how the hell were they supposed to prepare for everything last second.

It would seem that Fenrir had bad luck with pups in the past. All his pups from his other bitches were all born sickly or deformed. Those that survived their third month had some type of constant problem that usually resulted in Fenrir getting angry, killing the pups and beating the bitch to death. He wasn’t taking any chances with Harry, especially not with the full moon so close.

Fenrir flipped on Lance because they needed a safe place to watch over Harry after his change, so no other wolves, were- or not, would come and challenge him or no type of accident that could result in the death of the baby could occur. Fenrir had to be there and that meant Lance had to be in charge, but Fenrir still had to map out where they could and couldn’t go. It was time consuming and Fenrir was already occupied with Harry throwing up everywhere.

“Fenrir.” Harry growled, rubbing away the nasty burn in his throat. His mate either didn’t hear him over the sound of his own voice, or was ignoring him. “Fuck—…Fenrir! Would you shut the fuck up! Lance heard you the first fucking time you said it! Yelling at him is not going to change anything!”

Fenrir’s jaw clicked shut and he turned his glare on Harry. Already in a bad mood from throwing up all morning, Harry wasn’t in the mood to play the little submissive bitch to the Alpha. Draco, seeing the explosion about to come, ran over to placate Harry…it didn’t work.

A few days after Harry had told Draco the devastating news, the blonde sulked up to him and apologize. Harry accepted right away, missing his friend, but the already tentative relationship they had formed was even slower to return to how it used to be. Harry got quiet and inverted when he was with Draco, something Fenrir hated and grumbled all day about, and though the blonde noticed, there was nothing he could do as the air between them always felt awkward. Draco deeply regretted sending Harry over the edge like that, but he had been so distraught. He hadn’t known what else to do.

But though slow, their relationship was slowly building again. It helped that Harry was excited for Draco for when the full moon approached and the blonde would be bitten. And also Draco was ecstatic about Harry’s pregnancy. His love of children was a secret of his, one that he accidentally blurted out to Harry when the raven had whispered to him that he thought he was pregnant. And now, Draco was Harry’s morale support, other than Lance.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that! You’re too busy paying attention to irrelevant things to see me over here throwing my guts up—…gugrrh—” Harry cut himself off and pushed Draco away, leaning over to throw up again. He felt Draco’s cool hands touch his forehead and push his hair away. He groaned and pushed Draco away again, sitting up and glaring at Fenrir, who was rooted to the spot and staring at Harry. His anger flared again and he struggled to stand.

“You know what Fenrir? _Fuck_ you! You’re useless!” He stumbled towards the sitting room, where a fire was crackling for him as they were approaching the deep of winter. “What kind of Alpha are you when you’re too busy _yelling_ to take care of your _sick_ and _pregnant_ mate?!” Fenrir snarled and stomped towards him. “Oh, now you come!”

“Shut up, Harry!”

“No, I won’t!”

As Harry and Fenrir began arguing, Draco slowly backed away to where the rest of the pack sat huddled, staring wide-eyed.

“Harry is bloody mad, he has to be.” Michal said, shaking his head in wonder as he wrapped an arm around the blonde.

Lance sighed. “No, he’s just pregnant.”

“But…he shouldn’t be throwing up this early…should he?” Draco asked curiously. Lance only shrugged.

Emile shook his head. “Harry’s a fiery one. Fenrir’s going to have to rethink his priorities if he thinks this one’s going to be easy.”

“Just more stronger the pups’ll come out as, in my opinion.” Tamera joined in carefully. She was slowly warming up to Harry, attracted to his warm personality over Bryanna’s bitchy one.  

Everyone nodded. No one noticed Bryanna’s furious gaze. No one noticed her slink out of the room. Harry was too deep in his argument with Fenrir and his pain to notice when she left the wards.

~oOo~

How dare that filthy mutt come and take what was rightfully hers?! All he did was bat his eyelashes and Fenrir would go running. And then he spread his legs like the whore he was and Fenrir decided to mate with him.

Ha!

He was nothing but a toy for Fenrir. A little puppy for the wolf to play with. Bryanna knew the truth. She knew that under his mask, he was in love with her. Oh yes, she could see it in the way he looked at her.

But now that mutt came and distracted him!

Bryanna almost had him! Years she had waited for Fenrir to finally notice her! Not only was she the only dominant female wolf in the pack, she was also Fenrir’s best hunter. And she was the prettiest. Only thing was, she didn’t eagerly spread her legs like the toys Fenrir played with did. So it took him longer to notice her, but then he did! Only for his attention to be stolen by that mutt!

It was okay though. Bryanna knew how Fenrir was. He chose a bitch, and when he got bored or annoyed with her, he killed them off. The mutt was no different. Well, there was one slight difference.

Bryanna was going to take care of little Harry herself. She couldn’t, of course, waltz right up and kill him; Fenrir wouldn’t like that. No, she was going to do something much better. A few people who would get rid of Potter and that spawn he was carrying. No way was that baby Fenrir’s. The whore must’ve spread his legs for someone else in the pack.

But it was okay. Yes, everything was going to be okay. She was going to get her Fenrir. He was hers.

She couldn’t hold in the smirk that made her lips twitched as she approached the secretary of the Minister of Magic’s office. The woman looked up.

“Yes, how may I help you?”

“I have some information I think the Minister would like to hear.” She replied smoothly.

“Uh huh.” The woman popped the gum Bryanna only just noticed she was chewing. “Do you have a scheduled appointment?”

“I don’t but—.”

“Then sorry. Please schedule an appointment and return on the specified date. Would you like to schedule one right now?”

Bryanna glared. “No, for fuck’s sake. Just tell the Minister that I know where Harry Potter is. I think he will like that, appointment or no.”

~oOo~

Harry’s eyes followed Fenrir’s movements in a hot glare as his mate ran around, yelling out orders. It took nearly a week, but they finally found a safe spot for Harry to complete his change in the forest, where they were now. The full moon was in less than four days and Fenrir and the pack was going out to do one last scan of the area before moving Harry to the location. Emile, their third strongest fighter after Fenrir and Lance, was staying behind to watch over and protect Harry. He currently sat next to the young, furious wolf and sent a concerned glance at Harry when he thought the teen wasn’t looking. Draco sat on Harry’s other side with Michal, watching the raven with amused eyes.

A snarl ripped from Harry’s chest when Fenrir glanced back at him. His emotions had been very topsy-turny and currently he was in one of his worse moods. The pack had learned quickly to stay a safe distance away from him when he was in one of these moods, especially Fenrir. Harry took his anger out the most on his mate, though the reasons why were most unknown. Fenrir for the most part tried to keep his own anger in check, but sometimes he exploded and that resulted in an all-day yelling match between him and Harry. Everyone was sure that if Harry wasn’t pregnant, the fight would be a lot more than verbal.

Fenrir scowled and gestured for the pack, minus Harry and Emile, to follow him. Harry only relaxed when the man was out of sight. The safe spot they’d found for him was a small meadow and little ways off from their main clearing, where they changed last full moon and planned to do again this one. It was also an ideal spot for Harry to have his pups, with a small stream and a patch of graze nearby, attracting forest animals and providing the pack with food for those first days while Harry healed and couldn’t be moved too much.

The wind blew and Emile suddenly stiffened, looking towards the opposite way Fenrir and the others went. He slowly tilted his head to the side, nose flaring and eyes flitting. Harry sat up and looked at him imploringly. Then he smelt it; the scent of humans, the crackling smell wizards to be exact.

Emile stood and pulled Harry up with him, sending a warning growl in the direction he was looking. Shadowed figures stepped from the shadows of the trees, cloaked in dark Auror robes and wands out and focused solely on Emile. Harry’s eyes widened as he recognized the pink hair poking from the hood of one robe and the stocky, slightly tilted stance of another.

Moody and Tonks! They’d figured it out. They were going to kill him. Kill his pups. He gasped and backed behind Emile. The older wolf glanced down at him, his expression as unreadable as always but his eyes shining with reassurance. The pounding of Harry’s heart slowed and he took a deep breath. Emile was there for a reason and neither of them would go down without a fight. He watched through narrow eyes as Moody stepped forward.

“Release the boy and we won’t kill you.” He brandished his wand in what seemed like a menacing way, but the Auror must’ve forgotten in his old age that werewolves were immune to wizard magic.

Emile’s lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh, but his face remained impassive. He only responded with another warning growl, this one deeper and louder than the first. Moody gave a growl of his own.

“Then you leave us no choice! Aurors!” All the Auror raised their wands and shouted something Harry’d never heard before. Something silver colored and liquidy shot towards them. Harry’s eyes widened. Emile must’ve realized what it was the same time he did, because he picked Harry up and began running in zig zags in the opposite direction of the Aurors, towards the meadow, and towards Fenrir.

Harry heard the wizards take chase after them and he clutched at Emile’s shirt, silently urging the wolf faster. They were almost halfway there when Emile let out a choked snarl and began to slow down, limping. Harry looked down to see the liquid silver solidify straight through the middle of Emile’s thigh. He gasped as blood began to pour out and looked up at the man, who was beginning to look pale.

“Emile, put me down. I can run; you can’t carry me with this wound.” Emile only clenched his jaw and shook his head hard. Harry felt his anger begin to feed on his worry and he smacked Emile on the chest. “Yes, dammit. Do as I say, Emile.” Just then, Emile let out a cry and fell to his knees, Harry falling from his arms.

As he fell, he saw a second liquid silver solidify itself in Emile’s other thigh, cutting right through the tendon. He saw Emile reach out to him, eye wide with panic. He tumbled to the ground, and as his head fell, it connected with something hard. His mouth opened in a silent groan and he saw black.

~oOo~

Harry groaned as he opened his eyes, immediately closing them as the bright light shone down on his face.

“You can’t do this! You can’t just—…just _kidnap_ somebody!” That sounded like…Fred? His voice panicked and furious and worried, no doubt for Harry.

“Fred, George. We didn’t _kidnap_ him. We _saved_ him. That savage beast we found him with was holding him captive. You should’ve seen him, all pale and terrified.” That was…Kingsley? Sounding reassuring?

“You don’t—”

“Understand—”

“Harry wanted—”

“To be with—”

“The pack. He didn’t want—”

“To be saved.”

Definitely the twins, sounding distraught. Harry frowned and finally opened his eyes. He blinked. The room was one he never saw before, yet somehow still familiar. He sat up and rubbed the back of his head. Those walls…was he in Hogwarts?

The last he remembered, the Aurors had came to take him from Emile, from his pack, and Emile had ran off with him, trying to find Fenrir. The Aurors had been…shooting liquid silver at them. They’d got Emile and he’d fallen, Harry also falling. He must’ve hit his head on a rock when he fell. He seemed to be doing that a lot.

Suddenly he gasped, hand flying to his belly. It was barely, _barely,_ noticeable, but a small bump was forming. His baby was fine. Hopefully no one noticed when he passed out. He had to make sure no one noticed; he had to escape. Fenrir was probably looking for him, but there was no way he was going to sit there like a damsel in distress.

He slowly got up, careful of his sore head, and walked to the window closest to his bed. His room wasn’t too high up, and with his new strength it shouldn’t hurt too much. He couldn’t take the chance though, not with his fragile baby. He turned away, contemplating on whether or not he should make a rope from the sheets, when the door suddenly opened.

Looking up in alarm, he backed against the wall and growled. Kingsley stepped inside, smiling cheerfully, followed by Tonks and Moody, Bryanna looking at him with a feral smirk, and finally Fred and George, the former looking stony and the latter glaring with a pissed expression. Harry’s gaze flickered between the six and he let out a warning growl. Kingsley raised his hands placating gesture.

“Now, now Harry. Calm down. We’re here to protect you. We’re not going to hurt you.”

Harry laughed humorlessly. “Ha! Not hurt me? You just forcibly took me from my home, my pack, and you expect me to believe that? And just before the full moon to—” Suddenly he stopped, his expression thoughtful. “How long was I out?”

They all shared a look, and no one said anything. He growled out his impatience. George suddenly looked up, eyes rimmed red, and stepped forward.

“Two days. _They_ put you under a spell induced coma and gave you a ‘check up’.” He looked back at the others, minus his brother, with disgust.

Kingsley stepped forward. “Ah, yes. About that. Your…baby, Harry—” Harry growled and covered his stomach protectively, glaring at Kingsley. “Well, see. We’ve offered to have it…terminated—”

Harry snarled, looking at Kingsley with such a murderous expression that the man took a step back. “Terminate it! You mean to kill my baby?!”

Kingsley nodded hesitantly. “Yes, well…We assumed your baby was conceived not exactly…willingly.”

Harry was silent. “You mean…rape?” He said with low danger. Kingsley nodded once. All the anger that had been building up in Harry suddenly exploded. “Are you kidding me? Fuck you, Kingsley! And fuck you, Tonks! And fuck you, Moody! Especially, you, fucking bitch! How dare you?!” He marched forward, green eyes glowing darkly. “I’ll very well have you know that me and my mate _enjoy_ having sex. In fact, the night before we found out I was pregnant, we were fuc—!”

Bryanna screeched. “Shut the fuck up! No way the Alpha wants some weak piece of shit like you, whore!”

“You wanna repeat that in my face, bitch?!” Harry snarled, stepping closer.

Before he could do anything, Fred rushed forward and hugged him tightly. “Harry, me and George won’t let those fuckers do anything to your baby. You can keep it, it’s yours. Yours and your mate’s.”

Harry visibly relaxed and backed away. Kingsley and Moody shared a look. The limp Auror stepped forward. “Who is this mate you speak of boy?”

Harry smiled darkly. “Wouldn’t you like to know? All you need to know about him is that once he finds me…you all will more than likely die. Pray that he finds me before the full moon, because you can believe me when I say that he will take pleasure in ripping you limb from limb if he were in his wolf form. _Then_ you’ll know who he is.”

They visibly paled. And Harry snarled a grin at them. “Now get the fuck out.”

~oOo~

Fenrir roared in frustration. Harry, his mate, was gone.

Taken by wizards, according to Emile, who was currently getting his wounds attended to. Wounds from protecting Harry. He did his best to protect Harry, but now Fenrir had to go out and find his pup. But he didn’t even have a scent to follow! Those thrice-damned wizards Apparated after taking Harry.

And Bryanna. Why the hell didn’t he notice she was missing earlier? Oh right, he and Harry were fucking arguing. God-fucking-dammit! He was going to rip that bitch and all those fucking Aurors limb from limb. He growled low and let out a howl, promising blood and death to those who took what was his. The pack echoed his howl, just as devastated and worried for Harry as he was. Lance, face drawn, approached Fenrir cautiously.

“Fenrir…Emile was hit with silver and his wounds aren’t healing fast enough. If you want to go out and find Harry now…we have to leave someone with Emile. He can’t walk, can’t even get up—”

“Fine, leave Arick. I’m going to fucking find my mate.” Fenrir stormed off, in the direction of the sitting room, to the fireplace. From there, he would Floo to Diagon Alley and hopefully get a better scent of his mate. Or better yet, the scent of one of those who took him. The quicker the carnage began, the more satisfied Fenrir would become, especially once he found his pregnant mate. 

His face lifted in a snarl as the rest of the pack quickly flanked him, minus the wounded Emile and Arick. Oh, yes. He promised lots of carnage. He lifted his head in another howl and his pack followed.


	11. Third Full Moon

Whoo, moving right along here, aren’t we?

“Harry—.”

“We have something to—.”

“Ask you about and—.”

“We think it’s really important—.”

“Will you bite us?” The Twins ended in chorus. Harry looked at the two incredulously. It was so sudden. He swallowed.

“Why? Why would you—.”

“Because Harry, we love you.” George said softly. “You’re the only family we have left. We want to be with you, through thick and thin.”

“Yeah, we want to be with you every way we possibly can…” Fred bumped his shoulder.

“But…but…” Harry looked between the two, literal identical expressions on their faces. He licked his lips. “Okay…but I have to do it now, or else my wolf side won’t immediately recognize you and go into attack mode, especially since my mate isn’t here yet.”

The two nodded, sharing a serious yet excited expression. “Got it.”

“And I have to bite hard, even harder than when Fenrir bit me—.” A choked gasp came from the other side of the room, but Harry ignored it. “So it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

They nodded again. “Yeah.”

“No regrets, right?”

Expressions brightening a fraction, the three shared a grin. Over Harry’s head, Fred and George shared a look. Fred looked down and held his arm out just in front of Harry’s face.

“I’ll go first.”

Harry noticed their look but said nothing. He’d long since noticed that something more than a brotherly relationship between the two. He didn’t care, as long as they were happy. It wasn’t like he could say anything anyway, since by human standards he was fucking his ‘father’. Fenrir was his sire and his mate. Neither could care less. By wolf standards, it wasn’t incest since no true blood was shared between the two.

Harry met Fred’s blue gaze and lowered his mouth to the older man’s arm, teeth already sharper due to the proximity of the full moon. He closed his eyes as his teeth met skin. At first, it was almost the same as biting into his game, until he pierced skin and the blood rushed into his mouth. Human blood was disgusting, unlike animal blood, as his body and taste bloods weren’t meant to take it in. The only time a wolf would willingly and sanely bite a human was if, as Harry was doing, they were changing the human or killing a threat. He bit down hard and fast, eager to get it over with, careful to avoid in major veins. He felt Fred tense and heard him release a painful hiss but didn’t let go until another heartbeat passed; ensuring the collagens in his saliva did their work. Harry released Fred’s arm and licked the excess blood from the wound gently. The collagens in his blood and saliva helped the wound close faster. He turned to George as Fred pulled away and held his arm to his chest.

George swallowed, but dutifully held out his arm. The process repeated and Harry gagged at the overflowing taste of human in his mouth. He quickly, but carefully, licked George’s wounds and stood. Sparing a quick glance out the window, the sun was setting quickly, he rushed to the bathroom and rinsed his mouth out. He used his hand; it took a couple of times to really get the taste out since his hand—his whole _body—_ was trembling in expectation. He rushed back out the bathroom and surveyed the people in the bedroom.

Fred and George sat on the bed, analyzing their nearly healed wounds and glancing out the window with wide eyes. Bryanna glared at all of them sulkily from her little corner across the room. Harry sneered at her and she returned it full force.

“Don’t look at me, you whore.”

“Call me what you want, Bryanna.” Harry’s eyes narrowed and his voice deepened as he channeled his inner Alpha. “But that doesn’t change the fact that when _he_ finds me, he will love and kiss me. But when he finds you…he will gleefully rip you to little pieces.”

Her expression paled even as she scoffed. “Yeah, right. Whatever, whore.”

The Twins suddenly appeared beside him. “Guys…”

They gave a pointed look at the window.

Both Harry and Bryanna looked out the window. Just as they did, the moon peeked out and began to rise into the sky. Harry gasped, back arching in pleasure, as his wolf spirit joined his human one. He could feel the change taking over him faster, smoother, this time and he relished in the now eased feeling it brought. No wonder Fenrir and the pack had no problems. He guessed it just came with experience; the more he did it, the easier and more pleasurable it became. Not but a moment later, the moon now rose and shining in the sky, a raven wolf stood as regal as ever, a grey stripe slithering down his neck.

Hearing pitiful whimpers from across the room, Harry swiveled around and bounded for the two deep red wolves curled around each other and trembling. He approached them slowly, his nose twitching as his own scent, faint but there, evaded his nostrils. The smaller wolf noticed him first and gave a small mewl as he crept towards Harry.

“ _Harry…”_

The raven wolf nuzzled the other affectionately. “ _George…”_

The bigger, and slightly darker red, wolf stood on shaky legs and limped towards him. “ _I can’t believe it actually worked. Woah…”_

Looking between them, Harry could tell that George was a submissive while Fred was a dominant. It was quite unexpected, as the two were the same in every sense possible. He wondered what Fenrir would think of the two new additions to the pack, especially now that they had another submissive.

His mate, who he knew was on his way. He couldn’t wait to present the two to him. They were strong; he could tell. He would beg his mate to let them into the pack and mark them with his scent. Speaking of scents…

His nose twitched again and he let his nose carry him to another wolf who had Fenrir’s scent deep in their skin. He automatically knew the slightly smaller wolf was Bryanna, with her thick, dark brown hair and lithe body. He also knew he was nothing against her, the strongest hunter in the pack. She would rip him to shreds.

Except…there was something wrong with her. She was in her wolf form, convulsing on the floor. Harry stepped closer, and he figured it out as soon as her scent hit him. She was changing, becoming a Loner. Her obvious betrayal of her Alpha forced her out of the pack without the Fenrir’s orders. Harry couldn’t tell which was worse, being tortured to death by an angry Fenrir, or being out-casted for treachery, her scent betraying her as fraudulent.

“ _Move away from me, you whore.”_

In his wolf form, Harry was less lenient to such insults and his fur bristled as he bent his forearms in a crouch.

“ _Did I hear you correctly, Bryanna? Because I believe you are speaking to an Alpha, and as such, you should watch your tongue. Before I rip it out.”_ He barked out.

Harry stepped forward and was about bark again, willing the wolf to submit, when a sound distracted him. His ears swiveled towards the window, even as he still looked at the wolf, straining to hear the sound again. There! Challenge forgotten, he bounded for the window and barked madly.

A howl, loud and long, calling for him. It was one lone sound, until many others joined in, calling for him. He didn’t care about the others; only the loudest and most distinctive one from the bunch. Fenrir. He had come. Giddy with excitement, he lifted his muzzle and let out a responsive howl calling his mate to him. Silence. Then another howl, only one.

“ _I’m coming.”_

He barked happily and fell to his fours, yipping like pup and running around the Twins. His mate was coming for him. His mate was on his way. His mate wasn’t that far from him. He couldn’t wait, he couldn’t. But he couldn’t rush out there. His howls must’ve alerted the evil humans of Fenrir’s arrival and Harry didn’t want to be in his mate’s way when he came to kill them. It took everything in him to stop bouncing around and sit his rump down. He counted each second it took his mate to come.

It took Fenrir exactly 300 seconds to arrive.

A shout and a loud thumping had Harry standing and alert. He glanced at the Twins, moving to stand in front of them. They were his children and he had to protect him from his pack’s wrath. He was sure they’d all recognize Bryanna and would go on a killing spree for her blood once they caught it.

A lot more banging down below and he’d had enough. Tossing his head back, Harry let out a loud howl. Only three howls responded, none of them his mate and one unfamiliar, and he was beginning to grow angry. He wanted his mate. He looked at his children, then gave a pointed look at the door. They shared a look.

_“George, I think he wants us to figure out a way to get the door open.”_

_“I agree, Fred. What should we do?”_

Harry growled. “ _On the count of three, we’ll all rush at it. It’s old wood and should break easy.”_

The Twins shared a look. _“Harry….”_

_“Three!”_

Startled into action, the Twins followed Harry as the raven wolf rushed for the door. At the last second, all three of them turned slightly, so that they ran slightly horizontal and their shoulders were pointed at the door. Harry closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact.

 _Crack!_ And the door was open.

Harry was gone immediately, streaking past the Twins and running down the hall. He skidded to a stop at the top of the stairs. Even from his narrow view, he could already see the destruction. Furniture pieces and blood was everywhere. It was mostly human blood; he scrunched his nose at the scent. A wolf streaked by, spurring him into action, and he made his way down the stairs. Half-way down, his impatience grew and he jumped down the rest of the way.

His timing was perfect; he landed on one of the wizards running by, one he just happened to not like in particular. He muzzle lifted in a hard snarl and he bent to tear out the weird smelling, one-eyed man’s throat. He lifted his head as a wolf approached him, pure white and slightly unfamiliar. Then the scent hit him. A mixture of Michal’s, Fenrir’s, and a completely different scent that he only identified with one human.

_“Draco.”_

The white wolf immediately plunged his nose in Harry’s ruff and took a deep breath, assuring he was fine, before doing the same to his belly, assuring the pup was fine. He barked softly and Draco pulled away to bow low, showing respect. He barked again, licking the muzzle of the white wolf, their fur contrasting severely, and nipped the wolf’s ear affectionately. Draco huffed indignantly and straightened, giving a particularly loud bark. Every wolf stopped fighting and looked towards them. He didn’t care about any of them as he zero’d in on his mate. Fenrir.

The large grey wolf shook his ruff and looked at him with icy grey eyes. He barked and bounded forward, rubbing his muzzle with his mate’s. Fenrir growled softly and licked his muzzle gently. He remembered that his mate was more affectionate as a wolf.

Suddenly Fenrir grunted and whipped around, ripping a silver projectile from his side. His mate flicked his head and quickly sent the hardened silver towards the perpetrator. He darted around his mate and quickly jumped after the silver, landing on the human just as the silver pierced her chest. The human had blinding pink hair, which pissed him off even more for some reason, and he leant down and growled low and menacing into her face. She gave a low squeak and he gave her a wolfy smirk before ripping her throat out. He looked up to see his mate looking on proudly and he bounded over. His mate pushed their heads together, a look promising a later time of heat and much pleasure. He licked his mate’s muzzle slowly.

“ _Fen, are you okay?”_

_“I should be askin’ you that. What the hell—?”_

Fenrir jerked up just as a streak of dark red passed him. One of the Twins from the room, he realized once he turned around. George was on the ground, one of the silver things protruding from his side. Harry quickly rushed to the wolf’s side, growling when one of his pack mates tried to approach. He only allowed his mate to approach; he needed his mate to recognize the wolf as his childe.

“ _Fenrir…”_

It happened quite easily. Fenrir leaned down to sniff the wounded George, only to jerk away in surprise. His mate looked at him, and he let his tongue loll out in a wolfy smile. Fenrir leaned down and took a deeper sniff, and his head snapped up and he glared at the one who shot the silver. Not only had the dark-skinned human _hit George_ but the intended shot was for _Harry_. Fenrir leaped over George and landed on the human, claws ripping the human’s chest open. The pack and he watched as his mate tore apart the human. Limbs and blood flew everywhere, but he was unfazed. Only when his mate was down did he look at away, back down at George. Fred had crept in and sat looking worriedly at his Twin.

Carefully grabbing the sliver between his teeth, Harry gently but quickly ripped the projectile from George’s side. The red wolf jerked and gave a low whimper but stilled once Fenrir approached. Harry gave a low bark.

 _“Fenrir, he is my childe. As is Fred.”_ His mate snorted but made no move to kill George.

A sudden sound had them all looking at the stairs. Bryanna stood on the last step, looking at the carnage with wide-eyes. Harry was proud; his pack managed to kill all the humans but only suffered light wounds. His mate growled and bunched his muscles, planning to attack the female dominant, but Harry barked and stepped in front of Fenrir.

He used his head to push his mate back, barking furiously over the man-turned-wolf. He gave a particularly loud bark over Fenrir and glared at the grey Alpha. He snapped his jaws together.

“ _Fenrir, death would be a mercy for her. Smell her scent. She is a Loner now.”_

_“What do you suggest then, Pup?”_

Harry shrugged. “ _Depends. What do you want to do to her?”_

Fenrir eyed the trembling wolf. “ _For now, nothing. I want you at the moment. We will deal with her at a later time. In the morning, when I can hear what she has to say. Let’s go home, okay?”_

 _“Yeah!”_ Resounding barks came from the others, making Harry laughing. He was happy. He was safe and with his mate and pack. And he got new pack mates.

~oOo~

Harry groaned when he woke up. The taste of human blood was still in his mouth. He wanted to get up and wash his mouth out, but Fenrir’s arm—like always—was pinning him down. He wriggled experimentally, hoping that for once Fenrir only held him loosely…only to have the man’s arm tighten around him.

“ _Fenrir.”_ The man grunted. “FENRIR!”

His mate shot up, growling and looking around wildly. Harry took the chance to slip away and stand. He felt his bones crack with the movement and stretched to rid himself of all the kinks and knots in his muscles. He didn’t turn around to look at Fenrir, already knowing what the man’s face would look like, and instead headed into the adjacent bathroom, butt naked. Last night, he and Fenrir had wild dog sex up in his room before falling asleep, which was why he was so tense after waking up.

“Harry…” Fenrir growled from behind him. He grinned as he stepped inside the bathroom and closed the door, turning the lock.

Fenrir cursed and flew out of the bed, banging on the door. Harry simply ignored him, humming as he grabbed his toothbrush and turned on the sink faucet. He had about a minute or so to brush his teeth before Fenrir busted the door down, which wasn’t nearly enough time, but he would have to make do with.

As predicted, a minute later there was a loud cracking sound and later a boom as the door broke and fell. Fenrir glared at him.

“Pup…” A snarl lifted his mate’s lip.  

“Fenrir…Beautiful morning isn’t it?”

The man released a growl and stalked forward. Harry yelped when Fenrir’s claws dug into his exposed skin on his hip above his pants. He heard the man growl in satisfaction and yelped again when Fenrir threw him over the shoulder like a sack of potatoes, but with gentleness and care for the baby. He growled and glared at Fenrir’s bare back.

“Fenrir…” The man growled in response, carrying him out the bathroom. He was in deep shit; that much was clear. Fenrir was severely pissed at him.

Fenrir threw him down on the bed and he shot up with a growl.

“Hey—!” Fenrir pushed him back down on the bed, climbing on top of him. He was going to start complaining at the man when he saw the way his mate’s pupils dilate looking down at him. He licked his lips, hoping they weren’t like that because of anger.

~~Smut

He let out a surprised gasp when Fenrir’s mouth came crashing down on his own, of which his mate took the opportunity to plunge his tongue in, deepening the kiss. Harry moaned and arched into Fenrir, whining when the man pulled away.

“No.” Fenrir forcefully pushed his body back on to the bed. Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion and he blinked when Fenrir pinned both hands above his head. “Be still.”

“Fenrir, wha—?”

“Shut up.” Fenrir growled. Harry licked his lips and swallowed.

Okay, Fenrir was still mad. Pissed actually. And it seemed that he planned on torturing Harry with sex. He groaned when Fenrir ducked down to grab one of Harry’s nipples in his mouth, sucking it lightly and lapping at it with his rough tongue. Harry keened and arched off the bed slightly—not much as Fenrir still had him pinned down. He had seriously sensitive nipples. 

Harry swallowed, whimpering. Fenrir used only one hand to pin both of his and used the other to hold his body in place on the bed. He couldn’t move at all. His whimpers grew louder when Fenrir licked a trail up his neck and nibbled on his ear.

“I thought I said shut it.”

“Be still or shut up. You get one or the other, Fenrir.” Harry growled, now sexually frustrated.

The man snarled low and bit his ear. Harry cried out, but it was swallowed by another one of Fenrir’s hard, hot kisses. The kiss was rough and harsh and Harry loved every bit of it, as he always did. Fenrir pulled away and he huffed, trying to wriggle away from under Fenrir’s hand to reach up to him, but his mate’s grip was sure.

He sucked in a gasp when Fenrir ripped his pants off, the cold air hitting his hard, hot cock mercilessly. He didn’t even notice that Fenrir had removed his hand to do so, and that now Harry could move. He only realized it once Fenrir’s hand was back in place; he growled in aggravation and bit his bottom lip. He wanted to cry when Fenrir thrust their pelvises together and he bit straight through his lip at the hot sensation filling his abdomen. He ignored the blood trailing down his chin and whimpered in frustration, closing his eyes.

Fenrir shifted and he felt the man gently lick the blood from his chin, sucking softly at Harry’s lip once he reached his mouth. Harry ignored him and the moan crawling up his throat, pushing down the urge to bite his mate’s lip off. He opened his eyes when Fenrir leaned back and began grinding into Harry ruthlessly, pounding their hips together. He could feel himself trembling and shaking from the urge to _move_ but he couldn’t; Fenrir hadn’t removed his hand. He clenched and unclenched his fists, shaking his head back and forth at the blinding white pleasure filling his body. His eyes rolled to the back of his head when Fenrir returned to his nipples, licking and biting and sucking on them while grinding down onto him.

Harry’s throat worked and he really felt like crying. “Fenrir….” He sobbed. “Fenrir, please.”

The man only sucked and ground harder down. Harry felt a suddenly heat coiling in his lower abdomen and he released another sob. He knew Fenrir could tell when he was going to cum and wouldn’t let him. He tried to make as least obvious as possible, but he couldn’t help reacting to his mate’s actions. He half-screamed, half-growled when Fenrir grabbed the base of his cock just as he tensed up to cum, releasing his hands in the process.

“Fenrir!” He choked out, hands flying out to latch onto Fenrir’s biceps, nails digging into the hard flesh.

“You woke me up, Harry.” The man’s rough voice was muffled by Harry’s skin where his mate’s head was buried in his neck. “I could’ve been asleep right now, but you fuckin’ woke me up.”

Harry sobbed, his aching member throbbing painfully. “Fenrir, please! I’m sorry! Never again, I promise.”

Fenrir stretched up and nibbled on Harry’s ear. “Damn right never again.” He squeezed Harry’s cock tightly, pulling out a choked moan from the raven. “You know better now, don’t you?”

Harry nodded, unable to speak. Fenrir sat up and looked down at him, a thoughtful look on his face. Harry suddenly shot up, back arching, as Fenrir let him go, allowing him to cum. And he did, long and hard; his fingernails dug into Fenrir’s arms, drawing blood. He sighed in relief, slowly sagging back down on the bed, as he leisurely came down from his high. He wriggled when he felt Fenrir’s rough tongue on his stomach, lapping up the hot cum, but also tickling him.  

~~

He jumped when someone knocked on the door and Fenrir sat up with a snarl. “Who is it?!”

The door opened and Lance stepped inside, eyes averted from the bed. He cleared his throat, cheeks growing red. “Seth…Seth said the next time you want to show off, you’ll have to…fuck Harry a little harder than that.”

Harry gasped, cheeks growing hot with embarrassment, and stared at Lance with wide, horrified eyes. Fenrir cursed and growled, climbing from his place above Harry. He covered Harry with blankets, grumbling about ‘fucking stupid assed pack being nosy’.

“Alright, we’ll be down in a moment.”

Lance nodded and left. Harry turned to glare at Fenrir, hot anger building in his chest, ready to explode any moment. Fenrir knew this, which was why he was quick to put on his clothes strewn across the floor. Harry’s face reddened further, now with anger, and he clenched his teeth in a snarl.

“Fenrir!” Fenrir winced, knowing he was in for a long bout of yelling. Once Harry got going, you had to let him get it all out, or else he’ll get angrier. Fenrir’s threats didn’t even stop him. Harry took a deep breath.

~oOo~

It wasn’t till thirty minutes later when Harry and Fenrir came down; the former with a sore throat and the latter with a loud ringing in his ears. The pack was crowded in the living room, laughing at something the Twins said when they walked in. Everyone looked up and a second passed before the whole pack started laughing again. Minus Remus, who began to look sick.

Harry scowled, growling low in his throat. Fenrir backed up his growl with a deeper one, shutting them up. He glanced at Harry, who turned his head away and made his way to sit in between the Twins. He glared, turning it on Seth, who yelped as he was grabbed by the hair and dragged out by Fenrir as the pack—minus Remus again—laughed, knowing why. Harry’s heart ached to give his mate the silent treatment, but Fenrir needed to learn that Harry wasn’t going to just bow under him so easily and whimper and submit to everything he said.

The best way Harry knew to do that was to show Fenrir that he wasn’t as afraid of him as the man wanted him to be and showing just how strong his will was. Harry might’ve been a submissive, but he had a dominant personality and having a scary mate wasn’t going to change that any time soon.


	12. Alpha's Anger

“Hey, why in the world we’re you two there when I got kidnapped?”

Fred and George glanced at Harry with blank expressions until his question registered and identical furious scowls twisted their features.

They were sprawled out in the sitting room, simply relaxing after such a long day. Harry, the Twins, and Remus, that is. The rest of the pack was spread out throughout the house and outside. Harry knew for a fact that Michal and Draco were upstairs…mating, and wouldn’t be down for hours. Fenrir, Lance, and Jake were getting Bryanna ready. Well…more like Fenrir was more than likely chewing out Jake while Lance did all they work.

“Wrong place—.”

“Wrong time—.”

“Or the opposite, rather.” George finished.

“If we hadn’t been there at that moment, who would’ve known what they would’ve done to you, Harry?” Fred shuddered.

“Before that bitch Bryanna went off blabbing her mouth—.”

“Kingsley had been bugging us to go to the Auror’s Department for questioning about what…happened.”

“We were on our way to his office when—.”

“We saw him and some others all clustered together—.”

“Walking fast and looking around suspiciously.”

“So we followed.” They chorused.

Harry blinked slowly. “Huh…”

If it wasn’t for the fact that those ignorant Auror’s had caused him to be saved by Fred and George—relatively speaking—then Harry would’ve laughed long and hard about it. How stupid could they be? Honestly, carrying him out in full daylight? Yes, the Twins were rather observant—being the masters of pranking, they had to be—but to be that obvious…

“Harry?”

Harry blinked and looked up at Fred; he knew it wasn’t George because the two, now as wolves, had a distinct shift in smell, though they still smelled rather alike.

“Oh, sorry. I zoned out for a second.” Fred grinned and George fidgeted. Harry sighed, knowing what they were going to ask. “Let it out.”

“How does it feel to fuck a serial killer?” They said in unison. Remus, who was beside them, choked. Harry blushed, but sighed again.

“He’s not _just_ a serial killer, guys. He’s my mate and _your_ Alpha, you’ll do well to remember. I’d tell you to watch your mouth when calling him that if I didn’t know any better, but he’d only take it as a compliment.”

“You didn’t answer the question.” Fred sing-songed and George smirked.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Fucking amazing.”

“Harry!”

Harry turned wide-eyed. “What?”

Remus frowned slightly and stood. “Can we talk for a moment?”

Harry sighed, knowing what this ‘talk’ was going to be about, but stood nonetheless. Remus led him to the kitchen and sat down, motioning for Harry to do the same. They sat in silence for a moment, able to hear Fenrir chewing Jake out for whatever reason with their enhanced hearing, until Remus built enough courage to speak.

“Harry…that man…you know he is Fenrir Greyback…right?”

Harry nodded. “The one and only.”

Remus swallowed hard, paling. “You are aware of his reputation?”

“Yes and frankly I could care less.”

“Harry!”

“What?! I already told you Remus; he is neither good nor mad. Yes, he has killed humans, but never without reason most of the time.”

“He turned me into a monster when I was but a child!”

“You are not a monster! No one here is a monster! Stop saying that! So what if he turned you? It’s for the better! In fact, I’m glad he bit me, because if he hadn’t then I wouldn’t of had the chance to have such a great family! Fenrir might be really rough on the edges, but he has his moments. So what if he’s not a happy-go-lucky guy?! I wouldn’t want him no other way. I’m sorry you can’t accept him as he is…It really breaks my heart. I care about the both of you and I’m not willing to give up either. Just please try to accept him…get to know him, please.”

Remus frowned and looked away with a long sigh. “Harry…my whole life. My whole life I spent in the shadows, being ridiculed and teased—.”

“Because you were with _humans,_ Remus. Who cares about those stupid, fragile little people? They were mean to you because they were _afraid_ of you. If you had accepted your wolf long ago, Remus…instead of trying to be _human,”_ Harry spat the word vehemently, eyes flashing, “then your life would’ve been so much better. You might have considered my dad and Sirius as your pack, but I can’t deny that whatever you guys had could _never_ beat a true pack, with your own. You belong here, Remus—.”

A snort cut Harry off and he turned to see Fenrir marching in with a cowed-looking Jake with his head bowed and the skin on his hands slightly melted and raw, trailing after. “If he doesn’t want to want to be with us, then let him go.”

“But, Fenrir, he’s your _childe!”_

 _“_ And he’s also a grown man. A goddamned Alpha at that.” Fenrir ran a critical eye over Remus. “A little _too_ thin anyway, to be a good Alpha. He couldn’t beat me, so he’d end up leaving the pack anyway. Or I’d kill ‘em…” He considered it for a second, ignoring Harry’s glare. “Nah, I wouldn’t kill him.”

“ _Fenrir!”_ Harry forgot that he was giving his mate the silent treatment and ran to him, wrapping his arms around the larger man’s waist and looking up with pleading eyes. “He has to stay, please Fen.”

The man frowned and ran a hand through Harry’s hair. “I could give two fucks if he was in the pack or not, but I’m not the one who doesn’t accept his wolf.” He gave a pointed a glare at Remus, who shifted uncomfortably. “He’s spent so much time with humans that he’s not really even a wolf anymore. I know you can smell him; he doesn’t smell like a wolf. He’s suppressed it too much.”   

“And we could fix that.” Harry let go of Fenrir to look at Remus with pleading eyes. “Please, Remus. Accept yourself, and accept Fenrir. It would do you so much good.”

Remus stared at Harry for a long second, a half-defeated look on his face. Then his shoulders slumped and he sighed. “I could never fight you, Harry. Alright, I’ll give it a try.”

~oOo~

Harry, along with Lance, watched with narrowed eyes as Fenrir paced towards a bound and snarling Bryanna. Fenrir had her strung by her wrist with pure silver chains, a thin strip of cloth between her skin and chain providing her small solace. He felt no sympathy for the woman. She was fucking crazy. And delusional.

Thinking if she broke him and Fenrir up, she would be able to have Fenrir. Ha. The notion was laughable. As if Fenrir was leaving him anytime soon.

“Bryanna.” Fenrir grunted, causing Harry to glance over at him. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

The woman simpered. “I did it for you, Fenrir! All for you.”

Fenrir snarled and Harry saw his clenched fist trembled as he restrained himself. “For me? You get my mate kidnapped, for me? You cause us to almost lose our pup, or pups, for me?”

“Yes!” Bryanna snapped, her cheeks turning red.

A growling, bitter laugh rumbled from Fenrir’s chest. “Then you were sorely mistaken, you bitch. Tell me, how did it feel when those stupid humans you ran to threw you in that room, lockin’ you up? Like an animal?”

Bryanna recoiled, her expression tightening. “I—.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Fenrir growled, stalking towards her. “Lance, get the Pup out of here. I don’t want him to see this.”

Not complaining—he was sure to get sick to his stomach—Harry turned away and marched up the stairs. Lance looked away from him, back at Fenrir, shrugging helplessly before following after. With the two gone, Fenrir allowed the bloodthirsty grin he’d been holding back spread across his face, icy eyes calculating. A visible shiver of fear passed through Bryanna’s body, her terrified eyes dilating.

Fenrir crossed the room, heading towards a table that was covered over with a long black cloth. He pulled it off with a flourish, revealing the gleaming instruments of torture underneath. Bryanna’s eyes widened and she let out am involuntary whimper. Fenrir grinned as he picked up a simple syringe and took slow, heavy steps towards her. He spoke with calm anger in his voice as he approached.

“This here is a mix of Tetrodotoxin, or TTX. I like this one a lot. You see, it’s not a poison. It’s a neurotoxin that causes paralysis. Dependin’ on where I inject it, I could simply kill you, or I can just paralyze you. But the most beautiful thing about it? It don’t affect your organs in any way, or your nerves.” Fenrir was behind her now, and with a blank expression he stuck the needle into her neck, pushing down on the injector. Byranna let out a small scream as her body began to stiffen. “So you will be able to feel every, little, itty bitty thing I do to you. And you can’t do anything. You will be able to only scream in agony. Isn’t it  beautiful thing? Very appropriate.”

He moved away from her and returned to the table. Setting down the syringe, he touched some of his favorite tools. But then he shrugged and picked up a pair of simple, gleaming scissors. Bryanna whimpered as he approached, but he simply took the scissors to her clothes, cutting them from her body with precise movements. Her cheeks burned and she cried out, wishing desperately to cover herself but unable to move. Fenrir grinned maliciously.

“Oh, yes. You always had a thing about being naked in front of others, didn’t you? You silly, silly girl. How would you have been my mate without flashing some skin. Harry has no problem with being naked—now anyway—he’s more comfortable in his own skin than in his clothes. In fact, I’d swear he’d walk around her naked all day if I’d let ‘im.” Fenrir’s eyes darkened. “But he’s mine. You hear that, bitch? _Mine._ I will _never_ let him go.”

With that, he turned and marched back to his table. He frowned at the assortment of tools in front of him. He had so many favorites…but what to chose first. He wanted something that would cause her a lot of pain, but wouldn’t kill her. His eyes lighted as they landed on one, seemingly harmless, one in particular.

Picking up a set of pliers, he grabbed the chair beside the table and set it down in front of Bryanna. Her eyes were wide and stuck on the pliers in his hand. Fenrir laughed darkly as he sat down, grabbing her right foot and setting it gently in his lap. He stroked her skin for a moment, before a harsh smirk twisted his lips and in one movement he lifted the pliers and yanked one of her toenails off. Her shriek filled the air as he continued with the rest of her toes on both feet, leaving her nerves raw and open, planning to save the biggest toe on her left foot for last.

Fenrir sighed in relief that he remembered to put up silencing charms as Bryanna’s screams grew louder and higher, making his eyes ring. He didn’t want his Pup to hear this. His little mate was sometimes just too kindhearted for his own good, and though he did have his rather dark moments, Harry just wouldn’t accept any of this. The thought made Fenrir growl and accidentally rip of her biggest toenail wrong, twisting the nail into her skin as he pulled it off.

That produced Bryanna’s loudest scream so far. He relished in the sound, ignoring the blood now dripping from his fingers. She began to sob helplessly and Fenrir frowned.

“Quit your blubbering. This is only the beginning, Bryanna.” He stood and returned once again to his table. “You’re lucky Harry won’t let me kill you. He isn’t that merciful, you know. You thought he was so weak, didn’t you? Just so you know, he’s been through worst than you have and didn’t shed not a tear or let out a scream. He took it all in and had the nerve to say he was okay. Can you do the same?”

Next he picked up a scalpel and returned to his seat. Picking up her bloody right foot, he carefully took the sharp blade to her ankle, slowly peeling away the skin. Her high pitched scream filled the air, causing Fenrir’s ears to ring harshly. He didn’t mind. In fact, it was music to his ears.

Blood poured from the wound profusely. Bryanna was going to die from blood loss, but Fenrir was rather prepared for that. He swiftly returned to his table, picking up a welding torch before quickly returning to his…experiment.

Flicking it on, Fenrir met Bryanna’s gaze as he lowered the blue and red fire to her skin. The smell of burning meat filled the air quickly. With one last bloodcurdling scream, Bryanna’s head slumped back as she whimpered tiredly. Fenrir tsked as her eyes fluttered.

“Now, now. It’s not sleepy time yet.” Grabbing the bucket of ice cold water prepared just for this, Fenrir splashed dome of it over her head, grinning as she gasped awake. “There you are. Hello. Time for more fun, yes?”

He tossed the torch back on the table, facing her with a considering look. Her feet were ruined, that was for sure. Nothing much else he could do with them now that the nerves were practically dead. He shrugged and went for her calves.

Her screams were weaker, but still loud, as he cut long deep gashes into the thick muscle of her legs. Satisfied, he sat down the scalpel and grabbed a bottle of vinegar. She whimpered soft, biting her lip, as he poured the liquid on her legs. Her blood and the vinegar mixed, creating a puddle of pink underneath her. Fenrir tsked at her.

“Come on, Bryanna.” He set down the vinegar and grabbed the can of salt. “You know that’s not what I want to hear. You’re only causing yourself more pain.”

Taking a handful of salt, he picked up her leg and roughly rubbed the crystals into her lacerations. A harsh scream ripped from her throat and she coughed up a bit of blood as her throat tore.

“Not loud enough.”

Making sure her legs were packed with salt, Fenrir picked up the vinegar and once again poured it down her legs. The combination of the salt and vinegar was so bad that her skin began to bubble and a loud, agonized scream—the best of all, Fenrir thought—came out of her mouth along with a good amount of blood. Fenrir grinned and nodded in approval.

“Good, good. See, that’s what I wanted to hear.”

For hours on top of hours, Fenrir tortured Bryanna. His pack knew what he was doing, and they weren’t going to stop him. Bryanna committed the worst of betrayals, and no one held any sympathy for her. Not even the weak hearted Remus. Fenrir was surprised no one came down and joined him. Then he guessed they wanted him to do it alone, because Harry was his mate. Which of course he had no problem with.

When he was finally down, Fenrir took a step back and admired his masterpiece. He’d allowed her to finally pass out, and she dangled limply, the toxin having bleed from her system.

She was now bald, after he’d gotten irritated from her hair getting in his way one too many times. Her body was littered with burns, cuts, holes, and so much more. Just the physical damage done to her would take months—maybe even years—to heal. Fenrir did admit, he did go a little overboard with the hammer. Just a little overzealous. Well…at least it was just her hands and feet. Her feet wouldn’t have lasted anyway. The appendages just wouldn’t heal as well as they could’ve, even with her werewolf healing.

His wolf growled at him to kill her. The final act of vengeance. But…he promised his little pup he wouldn’t. He honestly couldn’t understand why the stupid promise was holding him back. Before Harry he had no problems breaking the promises to his other mates. Who of course all ended up dead by his hands…but he just couldn’t find it in himself to break his promise to Harry. The look on his Pup’s face if the little raven ever found out…his wolf growled again, louder at the notion of hurting Harry, and he banished the thought.

Letting out his own growl, full of frustration, Fenrir climbed up the stairs. He found Lance leaning against the wall across from the door, apparently waiting for him. Light brown eyes scanned his body, most importantly the blood soaking his clothes, and a brow arched.

“Do I even want to know?”

Fenrir snorted. “Bryanna’s still alive. Take her out to the forest and leave her there. The stench of Loner is going to kill me. Do NOT let the Pup see even a drop of blood, or I swear Lance—.”

“I know, I know.” Lance waved a dismissive hand as he slipped by. “Quit with all the threats, you’re terrifying me and I might take you seriously. Especially with all the blood.”

Snapping at the Beta, Fenrir swiftly turned away and ran as quickly and as quietly as possible up the stairs. After taking a nice, hot shower to get rid of all the blood he was going to hunt down his mate.

All that torturing left him hot and horny.

~oOo~

Harry snarled under his breath, utterly pissed. He was currently in Emile’s arms, being carried like a baby because supposedly he couldn’t walk by himself. He was too _fragile_ and his stomach was too _big_ for him to walk. No one wanted him to trip and fall. As if Harry was completely _useless_ or something.

He huffed. He was _not_ useless; he could walk and keep up with the pack just as easily as anyone. It wasn’t like his feet were bleeding or anything; they were just a little sore from walking for so long. So what he was limping a little; he’s done more in worse conditions. _But you’re pregnant,_ Fenrir argued. His anger built and Harry snarled again, this time a little louder, and caught Emile’s attention.

“Harry, you okay?”

“Just fucking _peachy.”_ He snapped.

Emile’s lips quirked in the corners in a small smile and the man went back to staring ahead with a blank look. Harry’s hands clenched into fists and he felt the urge to beat something—or rather some _one._ A sharp breeze blew by and Harry shivered a bit. Emile felt it and tightened his arms, much to Harry’s dismay. He hated being a submissive; everyone always thought he was weaker than he actually was when he’s been through more shit in seven years then they have their whole lives.

They were currently on their way back after a wonderful full moon and both going there and coming back, Harry had been carried by Emile. Emile, who somehow become his bodyguard since he’s been pregnant.

Harry was three months, now, and his pregnancy was beginning to show. His belly was just a bulge, as if he ate too much, which was part of the reason why he was so pissed. No one gave two fucks about him walking before until he just happened to turn in such a way that his shirt pulled across his belly, revealing his bump. Everyone went into a panic and since then Emile’s been forced to carry Harry everywhere by Fenrir’s order.

The raven spent many hours yelling and arguing with Fenrir until his voice went hoarse, but his mate didn’t give in. This was one thing he _wasn’t_ going to take a chance on. Harry understood where Fenrir’s trepidation came from, but he wished his mate understood _him._ By now, the man just _had_ to know how Harry was and if there was anything he hated more, it was having to be dependent on others when he necessarily didn’t need to be. He couldn’t believe he had to go through four more months of this.


	13. Pups

YEAH IT'S A SHORT CHAPTER! YEAH I HAVE WRITER'S BLOCK! DAMMIT! But I wanted to give you guyz babies coz I loves you all

* * *

Harry pouted. He had screamed, shouted, cussed, cursed, hexed, threatened, and everything in between. But now, he pouted.

Emile was to his right, quietly reading a book. Remus was to his left, trying to engage him in conversation. Fenrir was behind him, silently watching him with his ever present scowl.

Why?

Well, Harry was in his last week of his pregnancy. He could go into labor any minute.

He wasn't allowed to do  _anything._ Any moment he was sure they were going to ban him from  _breathing,_ because the air would  _harm the baby._ And Harry was fed up.

Oh, yes. He was pissed.

It was worse when it was the full moon and everyone's wolf was more prominent. Even  _Draco_ was being overprotective of him, and the blonde himself was a month along. Harry remembered fondly a few months ago when Michal and Draco had approached them:

Harry'd been wrapped up in Fenrir, the man's long arms coming around his body and even longer legs caging him on either side. His shoulder was occupied by Fenrir's head, and the large wolf was dozing lightly. He only cracked an eyes open when Michal and Draco approached, both of them looking nervous.

"Alphas, we would like your permeession to—…ah…"

Michal had gone red and looked to Draco. The blond rolled his eyes, clasping his mate's hand and looking Harry in the eyes.

"Michal wants pups and we can't have any unless you two say it's okay, apparently."

Harry blinked in surprise, turning to Fenrir. "What? Is this true Fenrir?"

The man nodded slowly. "Without our permission, no one else in the pack is allowed to have pups. They can mate yes, but nothin' else. Any pup they have could be a threat to ours, and I have all the rights to kill any pups born without our permission."

"Fenrir!" Harry exclaimed, shooting upwards.

"Calm down Harry." Fenrir shook his head, pulling Harry back into his arms. "I can't help it. It's my instinct as the Pack Alpha. Any threat to me, my mate, or my pups means immediate death."

"That's not fair!"

Fenrir shrugged. "It is the way."

Harry crossed his arms. "Well, I say Michal and Draco should be able to have pups too. My pups  _are_ going to need someone other than their siblings to play with, you know."

"Harry…" The raven only glared at his mate. Fenrir sighed. "Alright, fine. You two have the Alpha's permission."

A grin spread across Draco and Michal's face, the latter immediately dragging his mate away. Harry also grined, twisting his waist so that he could wrap his arms around Fenrir's neck.

"Thank you, Fen."

The man grumbled but accepted the affections. "Whatever. Their litter better not be bigger than ours."

Harry laughed. "It doesn't matter, Fen! Be happy we're  _having_ a litter."

Fenrir merely grunted.

Abruptly, Harry was pulled from his walk across his memories as a twisting pain took away his breath. Fenrir was immediately there, pulling him out of his reflexive curl against the pain, but Harry resisted.

"I'm fine, just a contraction."

"That sounded more like a simple contraction, Harry."

"I know when I'm having a fucking contraction, Fenrir!" Harry growled with a glare. "Calm the fuck down! Stop worrying so fucking much!"

"Well excuse me for fucking caring!"

"No one asked you to, goddammit!"

"Fine! Then I won't!"

"Fine—!" Harry was cut off, eyes widening as his stomach muscles contracted and writhed.

He gasped as another one hit him, and then warm liquid flooded from between his legs. It took a second for what just happen to hit him— _how_ it happened—where everyone was frozen. And then he looked up at Fenrir, who was stuck with worry clouding his eyes, overtaking the anger easily. Harry swallowed.

"I think…my water just broke."

And shit, ladies and gentlemen, hit the fan.

~oOo~

"AHHHHHH!" Harry screamed bloody murder around the stick in his mouth, making it fall out.

The pack, who was currently surrounding him, winced at his high-pitched voice. He was at the moment curled in a near fetal position around his large stomach, tightly holding Emile's hand in a bone-crutching grip in one hand, Remus' in the other, as he tried to give birth for the very first time. Fenrir was between his legs, carefully cutting open his stomach in a caesarean. It was a slow process, as Fenrir was trying really hard to not cut too deeply, but Harry kept tensing and jerking around with his contractions.

"Shh, Harry, try to relax." Draco said above him. Harry had his head in the blonde's lap, and Draco was running a hand through his sweat soaked hair. The twins were behind him, also saying things of encouragement. Or at least trying. Michal was also there, next to Draco, saying encouraging words in Russian to the young raven wolf.

"Relax? Relax! How the fuck am I supposed to relax when I have a baby trying to  _rip out my stomach—AHHH!"_ Harry threw his head back and screamed again as another contraction seized him.

A loud crack was heard as he broke one of Remus' knuckles, but the Beta only let out a low hiss. Harry panted through his nose, trying to relax as Draco had said. He gave Fenrir a death glare as his mate cut through the half point, nearly done.

"Fenrir, I swear on Merlin after this I'm a  _cutting your dick off!"_

Fenrir paled and swallowed hard, but kept his hand steady. He was nearly done…

_There!_

He threw his knife to the side and plunged his hands into Harry's open stomach. Harry watched faintly as he pulled out a bloody, baby-shaped bundle. Fenrir turned it over and slapped its bum, making the infant's mouth open and release a loud wail. The pack cheered and Harry let out a relieved breath, completely exhausted. That is, until Fenrir's hands went  _back_ into his stomach, causing him to curse and curl upwards, and removed yet another baby. And then did it again,  _for a third fucking time!_

Harry relaxed fully this time; he slowly released his grip on Remus and Emile, and the latter moved quickly with a first aid kit to stitch up Harry's laceration.

Someone heated a bowl of water until it was steaming, and the babies were quickly washed and bundled in warm cloths. Harry looked up tiredly when Fenrir approached him with his pups, a wide smirk on his face and his eyes shining proudly. At Harry's questioning look, his smirk widened to a genuine smile.

"Two boys. You gave me two boys and a little girl, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened and a small tear slipped down even as he smiled. He was more emotional than usual at the moment. "I wanted to give you a boy, Fenrir, I did."

Fenrir fell to his knees beside Harry, gently pressing one of the pups into his arms. "I know." He leaned down and nuzzled his face into Harry's. "So you gave me two. Thank you."

Harry released a happy sigh and looked down at his baby. He had Harry's shock of straight black hair, little flying tuffs, but they wouldn't know his true eye color for a couple more weeks, as was the same with the other two. He smelled a bit like both Harry and Fenrir, but his own, dominant smell reminded Harry of summertime. He looked into that little face and a name immediately popped into his head.

"Mason." He breathed out. "Little Mason."

His mate blinked down at the baby then met Harry's gaze with a sharp, approving nod. "I agree. Little Mason."

Harry bit his lip and held up Mason to Fenrir so he could switch for the next baby. This boy had Fenrir's curls, but again had Harry's black mop, thick and standing crazily in every which a way. Something felt different about this babe from Mason, though, and Harry suspected that this pup would be a submissive, like him. He looked at his baby, and again a name popped into his head. He looked up at Fenrir.

"Jon."

Fenrir tilted his head to the side. "Where are you getting these names from, pup?"

"Dunno." Harry shrugged. "Give me my baby girl."

Lance stepped closer with the last bundle and handed Harry the pup. His little girl had Fenrir's dark brown hair, but hers was a combination of straight and curly strands, flying wildly about her face. But as Harry looked deeply into her face, no name popped into his head and he knew he wasn't not to name this pup. He held her out towards Fenrir, who gave her a confused glance.

"You're naming her, Fenrir, not me."

Fenrir's eyes widened. "Me? No."

"Yes."

"No way. I—I don't know what to name her."

Harry was relentless. "You do. Look in her face. Look closely."

Fenrir shot him a glare, but did as he said, eyes narrowing as he stared at his daughter. A second passed and his eyes widened.

"Rayne." He blinked and looked at Harry. "Her name is Rayne."

"Good name." Harry smiled and lowered his arms, sighing in relief from the strain and closing his eyes in exhaustion. "Told you."

His mate grunted. "You're tired. Lance, get Rayne; Emile—no, here. I'll get Harry. Jake come clean up this shit!"

Harry opened his eyes blearily. "I want to sleep with my pups."

"Okay Harry. I have to pick you up now, okay?"

"Mm hmm." Harry closed his eyes, letting out only a small mewl of discomfort when Fenrir picked him up. He could hear Lance and Emile behind him, with his babies, and reached out blindly for them when Fenrir laid him down in warm blankets

"Hold on Harry." A baby was pressed into his arms—Jon, by the smell of him—and Harry tucked the baby into his side and quickly reached out for another. He relaxed only when his pups were safely tucked under him and Fenrir was lying beside him, shielding him and his pups. "You okay, Harry?"

Harry hummed and reached out for any piece of Fenrir he could reach and promptly fell asleep…

Only to groan and open his eyes two hours later when his pups started crying. Fenrir shot up ramrod straight, alert, until he realized they were in no danger. He glanced down at the crying babies with a slight scowl.

"Why are they crying?"

"Because they're hungry and wet, Fenrir." Harry said tiredly. "Did you remember to get nappies when you went into the town square?"

"Yeah, hold on—Lance! Lance, where'd you put those damn bags?" Fenrir stood and stalked out the room, searching for the bags with all their baby stuff in it.

Harry looked down and tried to placate his crying pups, softly singing them a song. He didn't realize it at the moment, but the others told him later; he had been singing in Parseltongue within his tiredness.

"Here Harry." Fenrir slid to a stop in front of him, juggling three freshly made bottles and a bag of nappies and wipes.

Harry grinned and reached for the nappies. Together they made quick progress of changing nappies and feeding and burping the infants, before all five quickly fell back asleep.

* * *

review and maybe my writer's block will go away o.0 who knows :)


	14. A Painful Reminder

You know...I've always wondered why authors used the word ' _dis-_ apparating'. Not to diss anyone or anything like that, but I mean...that's not technically possible. The prefix 'dis' means to do the opposite of something, and the opposite of apparating is...well, nothing. You'll kind of just be standing there. So pretty much 'disapparating' isn't even something you can actually even do. You can only  _apparate_  from one location to another. Just a random thought I had while reading a fic. Well, a couple of fics. I'm not trying to say anything about anyone's work, but I was just wondering what those authors were thinking about when they decided to use the prefix 'dis'. I don't know; let me shut up...

oh wait, I no longer have writer's block (maybe-no, probably not everything is coming out crappy right now) and I am glad everyone thinks the babies are cute :3

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Voldemort paced angrily back and forth through his hall. He was  _beyond_ pissed. His Inner Circle, comprised of his most loyal and faithful Death Eaters, stood in a horizontal line before him, all standing composed and masked with the exception of one Peter Pettigrew, who had just suffered an angry Cruciatus Curse.

"A  _year."_ Voldemort hissed as he whirled on his Death Eaters, eyes flashing blood. "An entire. Bloody. Fucking.  _Year._ All I want is  _one_ simple thing—for you nincompoops to locate Harry Potter and bring him to me. A little boy who should not have been able to escape in the first place."

A woman with extremely messy, inky black hair stepped forward with a crazed grin stretching her blood red lips. Bellatrix Lestrange. "My lord, please calm down. We will find the boy." She simpered

The Dark Lord backhanded her, sending Bellatrix a contempt look. "Ruldolphus, control your bitch."

Said dark haired man—torturer extraordinaire—bowed and grabbed his wife. "Yes, my lord. I am sorry, my lord."

Red eyes skipped over the row of Death Eaters. "I want him found.  _Now._ I don't care how you do it, but  _find_ him. Burn towns and villages to the ground, torture people for information, start a world fucking apocalypse—I don't care, just FIND HIM!"

"Yes, my lord." Every Death Eater intoned in synchronicity before apparating from the room.

Voldemort cursed and stormed from the room.

~oOo~

Harry woke with a gasp, eyes blinking open to darkness. It took him but a second to realize Fenrir wasn't in bed with him. He sighed softly and rolled over, rubbing his throbbing forehead. He'd forgotten Voldemort was after him.

A soft gurgle caught his attention and he smiled as he realized his babies were all up and, for once, rather quiet. If they weren't crying for something, they were making loud noises at each other in baby talk. Well, Mason and Jon did. Rayne was a quiet, more reliant on action type, like her father. Only close to a month had passed since their birth, and yet they were already showing so much personality. Both Harry and Fenrir couldn't be any prouder.

Smile slipping as his forehead throbbed, as if a reminder, Harry curled up on himself. What was he thinking? Bringing innocent children in a world where Voldemort was still on the loose. And coming after  _him._ What would happen to his babies should he be captured again? A soft whimper passed his lips as his mind was filled with a flash of bright green light and his mother's haunting scream.

"Harry?" A rumbling voice called, rough fingertips contrasted by their soft touch against his arm.

Harry gasped and looked up. He hadn't even notice his mate come inside. Fenrir took one look into Harry's eyes and immediately pulled his mate into his arms.

"What were you thinkin' about, Pup?"

"No, I—." Harry looked down at his fingers as they twisted themselves into Fenrir's shirt. It was not the shirt he went to sleep in. "I had another vision about Voldemort."

Fenrir tensed. "What? You haven't had one in a long time."

"I know. He was angry that none of his Zombie Munchers could find me." Harry twisted around and threaded his fingers behind Fenrir's head. "Where were you?"

"Mason barfed all over me when I was burpin' him. I changed my shirt and took the other one down to the hamper in the basement. That shit was rank." Fenrir frowned. "Don't change the subject—."

"Hm." Harry stood and made his way over to the three cots holding his pups. "You changed their nappies, fed and burped all of them? Fen, why didn't you wake me? Mason threw up all over you probably because you fed him too much."

His mate stood. "You haven't been sleeping much since they were born, and you need energy for your transformation in a few days."

Harry frowned; they were all still awake and gurgling happily at him. "Why are they all still up?"

"I dunno." Fenrir came to stand beside him. "I tried everythin' except that hissin' shit you do, but they won't go to sleep."

"It's called Parseltongue, Fen." Harry corrected absently, his attention on his babies.

A pair of vibrant, forest green eyes and two pairs of slivery blue eyes—one pair soft and the other steely—stared up at him unblinkingly. Jon, Mason, and Rayne, respectively, from left to right.

Jon was Harry's look-alike, with his messy black hair and bright green eyes, and was nothing like Fenrir; he was the little sweetheart of the pack. Mason was Fenrir's look-alike other than his raven colored hair and the softer look his carried in his grey orbs; he did not act much like the man with his happy-go-lucky persona. Rayne was in every way the scowly man, attitude and appearance wise, with her dark brown mix of curls and straight hair, and her steel-like eyes; Fenrir fell in love with his grumpy little girl and acted so all the time.

"Harry?"

"What Fenrir?"

"What are you goin' to do about Voldemort?"

Harry sighed. "What can I do? That was another thing I was thinking about. Fenrir, what were we doing bringing pups into…into  _this?_ Voldemort is on my ass every waking moment of his fucking day. What happened if I get captured?"

Fenrir growled. "I will  _not_ let you get captured, Harry. Over my dead fuckin' body."

"Fenrir don't say that!" Harry hissed. "Don't fucking jinx it, okay? Imagine if that did happen!"

To his shame, tears began to build in his eyes. Harry turned away with a curse and scrubbed at his face. Fenrir reached out and grabbed his chin in a soft grip.

"Is this about your parents and Voldemort?" The man asked with uncharacteristic softness in his tone. Harry nodded slowly. "Harry, nothin' like what happened to you will happen to our pups. Should we ever both die, for any reason, then the pups have an entire pack to take care of 'em. Who know  _how_ to properly take of 'em. They will  _never_ end up bein' mistreated. Besides, neither of us are goin' to die until all our pups are old enough to take care of themselves and we're ripe and old, you hear me?"

"Yes, Fenrir." Harry sniffed.

Fenrir sighed and pulled Harry into his arms. "Everythin' will be okay. If I need to, I will take the pack and we will hunt down every single Death Eater and rip out their throats. And then I will personally rip out Voldemort's heart and bring it to you, okay?"

"You would do that for me?"

"Course I would." Fenrir bent down and kissed Harry hard. "You're my mate, Harry. My beautiful, hard-headed, stubborn, temperamental mate."

Harry chuckled softly and looked up into Fenrir's eyes. As what usually happened when the two had their moment, it immediately began to get a little steamy between them. Fenrir pulled Harry impossibly closer to him and they were about to kiss, when a gurgle caught their attention.

They looked down to see their pups staring at them. Harry sighed out a laugh and pulled away from his mate.

"Let's get these three to sleep, yes?"

Fenrir grunted in disappointment, but still scooped up Rayne. Harry picked up Jon and Mason, placing the latter in the crook of his right arm—stronger arm—as Mason was bigger and heavier than his brother. The five settled under the covers in the bed and Harry began to softly sing a lullaby he dredged up from an obscure place in his memory. As was the only way his children apparently fell asleep, he sung it in Parseltongue; his tenor-like voice, soft and husky.

 _I gave my love a cherry_ __  
That had no stone  
I gave my love a chicken  
That had no bone  
I told my love a story  
That had no end  
I gave my love a baby  
With no crying.

How can there be a cherry  
That has no stone?  
And how can there be a chicken  
That has no bone?  
And how can there be a story  
That has no end?  
And how can there be a baby  
With no crying?

A cherry when it's blooming  
It has no stone  
A chicken when in the shell  
It has no bone  
The story of how I love you  
It has no end  
A baby when it's sleeping  
It's no crying.

When Harry sang out the last line, all three pups were knocked out cold between him and Fenrir. Even his mate, in fact, was sleeping. Harry grinned curling up closer to his babies to give them more warmth before drifting off to sleep himself.

~oOo~

The next morning found Harry cooing over Draco, who was beginning to show. The blonde wore tighter clothes than Harry, and therefore his little bump was more obvious than Harry's had been. Michal sat next to Draco, practically glowing with pride. Draco himself was a little annoyed, but mostly amused.

"Harry, you were just pregnant yourself almost a month ago." Draco said, pushing away Harry's hands when the raven splayed them across his swelling stomach.

Harry laughed. "Yes, well I didn't get to enjoy the pleasures of being pregnant without the repercussions."

Draco frowned. "What repercussions?"

"Oh, you'll see." Harry smirked mysteriously before jumping up and running off for the kitchen.

"Hey, get back here!" Draco yelled, causing Harry to laugh.

Only for it to be cut short as he crashed into something solid and fleshy. He looked up and grinned at a bed-ruffled Fenrir, reaching up to wrap his arms around his mate's neck.

"Good morning Fenrir."

The man grunted, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and kissing the raven smack on the mouth. "Where's the pups?"

"Emile has Jon, the Twins are split between Mason, and Lance has spent all morning consoling Rayne, who was angry that her daddy wasn't awake." Harry ticked off on his fingers that were still twined behind Fenrir's head. "I handed them out so that I could make breakfast."

"I don't smell any food cookin'." Fenrir sniffed loudly.

" _That's_ because when I came downstairs, I noticed Draco was beginning to show. He's only in his second month, you know."

Fenrir lifted him and began to carry him into the kitchen. "Yes, I know Harry."

"Just making sure." Harry sniffed.

They entered the kitchen and was greeted with the loud gurgling of a happy baby. The usual stoic Emile had little Jon on his knees, giving the baby raspberries. Harry smiled as Jon gurgled again, not able to make a laugh-like noise come out of his vocal cords quite yet.

"I see you're enjoyin' yourself, Emile." Fenrir said smoothly, setting Harry down when his mate began to wiggle.

The higher beta looked up. "Mornin' Alphas. Yeah, this little pup is the most funniest little thing ever."

Harry strode over to the two, planting a kiss on Jon's cheek—insert another gurgle-laugh here—and carded a hand through Emile's hair. The larger wolf rumbled and pushed his head on Harry's hand, causing him to laugh.

"Emile, why don't you get yourself a mate, eh?" Harry began to nag. "Then you could have pups of your own."

Emile chuckled lightly. "I do have someone in mind, Alpha, but he is not one so easily…persuaded."

Being the 'mama' of the pack gave Harry a deeper insight to things than even Fenrir had, so it was rather easy for him to identify who Emile was talking about. His eyes widened.

"No way, you like Rem—?"

At the moment said man, looking badly harassed, walked in carrying a crying Rayne. The moment he saw Fenrir, he dropped the child into her father's arms with a relieved expression. Almost immediately, Rayne stopped crying, reaching up towards Fenrir with chubby little hands closed into fists. Remus groaned and slumped into a chair, banging his head on the table.

"Lance handed me Rayne and escaped. I was left to deal with her practically yelling and glaring at me. That baby has a really bad father complex."

Harry laughed as he began to flit through the kitchen, picking up the things he needed to start breakfast. It was a task, as he had many mouths connected to bottomless stomachs to feed. Sometimes Tamera would tentatively come in to help him, her attempt to say 'sorry' for what happened when Bryanna was still there.

The girl was shy and a bit childish, but she had a good heart and wanted to make things better. Harry'd seen the Twins eyeing her once or twice, and didn't even want to go in to what a big deal that would turn out to be.

Two subs and a dominant…whew. The day that happened, Harry would take Fenrir and his children, and run for the hills.

He whipped up breakfast with well-practiced ease. The others had begun trickling in when they smelled food, and now his pack sat at the table, impatiently waiting for him to feed them. He smiled, levitating the food onto the table. Luckily, the babies already had their bottles, so the pack didn't have to worry about the three being hungry and attacked the food as soon as Harry and Fenrir were served.

A few days later found Harry fretting quite badly over his children. The full moon was that night, and he wasn't sure how his pups would fair through their first transformations. It wasn't as painful as it was for a turned werewolf, according to Fenrir, but Harry still couldn't help but worry. He didn't like the idea of his pups being in any pain at all.

"Pup, they will be fine." Fenrir assured him once again. "Think about it; it's better if they get through the pain now so that when they get older, there will be no pain at all."

Harry slowly forced himself to relax. "I know, Fen. I just…can't help it."

Fenrir's arms tightened around him. "I feel exactly the same, Harry, but you've got to learn to control it."

"Yes, Fenrir." Harry turned around and wrapped his arms around his mate's neck, rubbing his nose against a stubbled cheek. "Make love to me before the moon sets?"

The man growled, arms flexing as he lifted Harry into the air. "With pleasure."

It was a good idea to stay home for the transformations, instead of going to the forest as they usually did. The original reason was because Harry was ready to skin someone if they even mentioned having his pups out there in the cold. At the moment, however, it was beneficial because the two Alphas always found themselves particularly horny during the full moon, but now that Harry's hormones were out of whack, they were having sex left and right. At least this time they would have a room, instead of going all out in the middle of the grass clearing where all the pack could see them.

Just as the two started to get passionate with their kissing, Harry rubbing himself all over Fenrir and practically purring with pleasure, there was a loud shriek. A shriek that belonged to only one person in the entire house. Rayne, calling for her daddy.

Harry groaned, nails digging deeply into Fenrir's shoulders. The man winced; he knew how painfully horny Harry was, and they barely had anytime to their selves anymore. He gently set his raven haired mate down. Harry looked up at him with a pout, and Fenrir chuckled.

"None of that, now, pup."

"But I wanna have sex!" Harry whined loudly.

"I do too, Harry, but the pup—." Fenrir tried.

"I know!" Harry snapped angrily. "Go on then, go get her."

He turned and stomped from the bedroom. Fenrir sighed, shoulders slumping, and followed his mate out. This was the sole part of Harry's raging hormones that he did not enjoy; the sudden switch to being angry. Every little thing made Harry angry, and somehow it was always Fenrir's fault. He didn't understand, nor did he try to. It would just give him a headache.

Harry stomped all the way to the sitting room, where he could smell Draco's scent the strongest, and plopped down angrily next to the pregnant blonde. Draco arched a brow with a smirk.

"Trouble in paradise?"

"Shut up." Harry growled.

"Do not get mad at me because you are not getting any." Draco snorted. "Besides, I know your pain. Michal will not have sex with me because he is scared that he will somehow hurt the baby."

"What?" Harry scoffed. "Before the pups were born, I had a hard time keeping Fenrir off me."

Draco smirked. "I know. What did you do?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. Just looked at him and asked him if he'd have sex with me. That seemed to work just fine. He had no problems."

"Yeah, but Michal is not like Fenrir at all." The blonde huffed. "How do I get him to have sex with me?"

"Did you try puppy dog eyes?"

"Puppy dog eyes?"

"Yeah, sure." Harry shrugged again. "Make your eyes all wide and teary and you know…beg him a little. At a small please at the end…That should do the trick."

"Hmm…" Draco bit his lip. "I guess it could not hurt to try it?"

"I never had to use them much before, as Fenrir is horny more often than not, but it should work for you."

The blonde's eyes lit up. "You think there is enough time before the full moon?"

Harry smirked. "You have a little over an hour."

Faster than Harry ever saw the blonde off of a broom, Draco was up and out of the room. Harry sighed and leaned back against the couch. At least someone was getting some. Who knew having kids could fuck up his sex life so bad? He had a hard enough time convincing Fenrir to take him in the first place, and now they couldn't have sex as they pleased? He huffed. He couldn't even wait until the pups tired themselves out after the full moon, because Fenrir always conked out until the afternoon. Or maybe the pups would be equally tired enough that Harry could pass Rayne onto someone else and she wouldn't fuss. An hour was all he needed, just one tiny hour.

* * *

The lullaby is called the Riddle Song; I don't know who created it -_- but I take no credit for it.

Food for thought: You know, in the beginning I was originally going to put Draco and Remus together…


	15. Tuff Lovin'

HELLO! What is this? An update? Why, yes it is! I know, it's been so fucking long... :( But I think I got my mojo back. It's weird, because I got the idea for this chapter when I was washing the dishes, and after that...it was like an explosion guys. So hopefully that means this story is back in the game. :) We shall see yes? Oh, yeah...REVIEW! pls...

* * *

"Well, maybe if you stopped spoiling her so goddamned much—!"

"Spoilin' her?! She's barely a fucking month old!"

"Fuck how old she is! You spend all day with her and barely even look at your fucking sons!"

"Bull _shit—!"_

"No, it's the fucking truth! You can't go an hour without coddling her!"

"I don't have to deal with this shit!"

"No, you don't! Get the fuck out, and stay the fuck out! I can't even look at you right now."

The door slammed shut so hard that, had it not been magically reinforced already, it would have splintered. Harry sighed and collapsed on the bed, dropping his head into his hands. He just couldn't  _believe_ Fenrir.

During the entire full moon cycle, his mate did nothing but coo over Rayne. Yes, their daughter was adorable, but so were their boys! The cutest balls of soft, fluffy fur ever! It was impossible not to want to sit there and stare googly-eyed at all three of them. Both Jon and Mason had Harry's midnight black fur, but Jon had Harry's runner build whereas Mason's build was already showing strong signs of an Alpha. Rayne's fur mimicked Fenrir's, just with a lack of the silvery swirls that twisted with black down Fenrir's back. She also had a strong build, but a effeminate slimness that made the fact that she was a female rather obvious. They're children were beautiful, and Harry was proud to see them as such strong pups, but all that pride deflated when Fenrir only praised their daughter.

To see his mate spending time with only one of their children usually didn't bother Harry that much—he knew that Fenrir loved all his children—but something about being in his wolf form sent his instincts over the edge. It made him feel…inadequate. And he had enough of feeling that way, therefore he ended up lashing out on his mate. Not that Fenrir didn't deserve it. The man should've known better. And…how could he just ignore his other children anyway?

Harry knew that Fenrir had attachment issues, especially when it came to pups, but he could've sworn that his mate was getting better. Fenrir was so much more open and less mean than before. He was still crude and a bit brash, but certainly friendlier. And he was clearly accepting of Rayne. So then what was it? What made him avoid their two boys? Was there…something wrong with Mason and Jon? Was it because Mason was showing signs of being a big softie? Or that Jon was showing signs of being a submissive?

"Harry?"

The raven looked up to see Emile and Remus walk in, carrying his pups. All of his pups drooled and babbled happily when they saw him. They were so advanced, developing so much faster than human babies. Especially after their first full moon. Harry giggled and held his arms out, holding his pup closely as they were put on his lap. Jon immediately curled into his side as Mason clutched onto his arm like a little, hairless monkey, and Rayne relaxed on his legs. He vaguely registered Remus and Emile sitting beside him as he gave his pups all his attention.

"And how are my little babies, huh? Did mommy wake you up from your nap?" Harry looked up at Emile with the question in his eyes.

The man shook his head. "No, they woke up just before you and the Alpha went at it. Me and Remus changed and fed them while you two argued."

Harry had the grace to blush and he smiled ruefully, yet gratefully. "Thanks, guys. I'd go insane if you two weren't here."

Remus laughed and reached out to ruffle his hair. "That's a lie, Harry, and you know it. You would've found some alternative to sort out the pups."

Emile gave a rare grin. "Or just yell at the Alpha until he did something."

"Yes, or that." Remus agreed, smiling at Emile.

Snorting, Harry shook his head at the two. "Quit it, would you? You know I don't like arguing with Fenrir."

"With the way you two go at it, I couldn't tell." Remus snickered.

Harry hit his shoulder. "Shuddup. If he didn't act like such a cockhead all the time…"

"Well, he is the Alpha." Emile shrugged.

"He's a father too, with responsibilities." Harry sighed, looking down at his babies. "The way he's acting right now…"

Emile's hazel eyes darkened so that shards of green began to appear. "I noticed. That's not healthy for you or the boys."

"But…" Harry huffed in frustration. "It's like he doesn't even understand what he's doing. And when I try to explain it to him, he gets all defensive, and then  _I_ get angry. Next thing you know, we're fighting."

Remus frowned thoughtfully. "Well, Harry, you have to take into consideration the fact that you are the least submissive mate Fenrir's ever had. You're practically challenging his dominance every step of the way and he's not used to it. On one hand, that's good for him because he can learn and grow from it, and on the other hand he's a grown man who already had a set, stable pyramid going for him. He's at the top, Lance is under him, us Betas after that, then the lower Betas at the bottom. If you were a normal submissive, you'd be in that little spot between him and Lance. As is, because of your more dominant personality, you're forcing him to share that top position with you. Something he's not used to. Give him some time and he'll come around. Reluctantly, but he still will and he'll begin to value your opinion."

"Exactly." Emile agreed nudging Remus with his shoulder. "Well said."

The sandy haired wolf flushed. "Just a bit of analyzing. Fenrir isn't a complicated person."

"Exactly." Harry pointed at him. "We  _know_ he's the Alpha. We  _know_ how strong he is. He doesn't have to act like a prideful ass all the time just to get the point across."

"Well, you kind of act the same way, Harry." Emile smirked. "You're like the mama wolf around here. What you say, goes, and if it doesn't all goes to hell."

Harry scowled and went to reply, only to have his attention grabbed by Jon. The little pup was nuzzling up his side, mouth moving in a sucking motion. Harry frowned.

"I thought you guys fed the pups?"

Emile frowned. "We did. Have you noticed that Jon eats a lot? He eats more than both Mason and Rayne, and Mason eats  _a lot_ on his own."

"Maybe it's because he's submissive?" Remus pondered. "Submissives are naturally born weaker than dominants, but in order to build up substance for things such as childbirth, they need a way to get that strength. Maybe it's through food?"

"Maybe so." Harry murmured, gently petting his youngest son's head. The pup cooed and nuzzled his face into Harry's palm in a very canine like way. "And if that is the case, then we shouldn't keep him from feeding, huh? Emile, Remus, if you would get Mason and Rayne?"

"Of course." Remus made as if to grab Rayne, only to pause and glance back at Emile. The raven smirked at him and reached around to pick up Rayne. Apparently Remus still had a thing about Rayne screaming her head off in his ear.

Without the weight of his other two, much heavier, children, Harry stood easily with Jon in his arms. Together, the trio made their way downstairs and into the kitchen. Harry stiffened in front of the door. Fenrir was in there. He wasn't sure if he was ready to face his mate yet, so soon after they had an argument. But…Jon needed to be fed…

He steeled his nerves and strutted into the kitchen, ignoring his mate who was chatting with Lance at the table, and went around to the cabinet to get the milk formula. With practiced ease, he made the bottle one-handedly, using a touch of magic to warm the milk before placing the nipple at Jon's mouth. His son latched on immediately, taking a first, strong pull from the nipple and closing his eyes in bliss. Harry smiled at his obviously hungry youngest boy. Suddenly he stiffened, and with a growl he said,

"Fenrir, touch Rayne and I will rip your friggin' hands off."

"What?" His head snapped up at Fenrir's responding snarl and he glared darkly at his mate, who still had his hands stretched out towards Rayne. He strutted forward, handed the still drinking Jon to Lance, and whirled around to grab his mate by the collar.

"I said…" He gritted out slowly. " _Touch_  Rayne and I will  _rip_ your friggin' hands  _off."_

Fenrir's eyes flashed silver. "Watch who you are talking to pup."

"Oh, I know exactly who I am talking to,  _Fenrir._ You spend too much goddamn time with Rayne and neglect your boys. Feel free to hold Mason or Jon anytime you feel like it, but I am hereby banning you from Rayne."

"You can't keep me from my own children!" Fenrir roared into his face.

Harry was unfazed. "Watch me."

With that, he let go of Fenrir and turned to grab Rayne from a gaping Emile. Fenrir growled warningly behind him, but Harry ignored it. he walked out of the kitchen holding onto Rayne, who was beginning to wriggle and fuss as she realized her daddy wasn't holding her.

"HARRY!" Fenrir's roar caused the whole house to shake and made the submissive in Harry cower and whimper, but he ignored the impulse to crawl back to his mate and submit.

He bumped into a wide eyed Draco in the hall, who took one look at Harry's expression, and Rayne in his arms, and arched a brow.

"Baby daddy troubles?" The blonde smirked, matching Harry's fast, furious pace as he marched through the halls.

"I wouldn't have to go to such extreme lengths if he would just listen to me for once. He has to get it through his thick fucking head that he's not the only one with power around here anymore. I am also Alpha and he's the one who damn well made me one, so he better duck up to his responsibilities. He knew when he mated with me that I wasn't one of those bubbe-headed, sniveling bitches he mated with before." He growled absently in a chiding fashion when Rayne's whines got louder. She immediately calmed down and glared up at him with teary eyes. "He spends too much damn time on Rayne. Mason and Jon feel neglected."

"Is it really your boys who feel neglected, or you, Harry?" Draco asked, stepping in front of Harry and therefore successfully stopping him.

Harry's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"Well, think about it. You have not had sex with Fenrir in who knows how long? And whenever you two finally think you have a bit of alone time together, Rayne fusses and Fenrir is off like the white knight going to save the princess." Draco smirked. "All think all of this is just you expressing your sexual frustration, Harry."

"Sexual…frustration?" Harry's brow furrowed. "You think I'm using Rayne as an excuse to express my sexual frustrations to Fenrir?"

Draco shrugged. "Not as an excuse. Honestly, Fenrir's obsession with her is a big part of why you two aren't having sex. I understand where he's coming from, given that not only is Rayne gorgeous but she's practically his duplicate, and he is basically star-struck by her. I do, however, understand where you are coming from too, Harry. I mean, I would have already chopped off Michal's balls if he tried to pull something like that and I'm practically throwing myself at him."

Harry bit his lip. "Do you think…I should probably go talk to Fenrir about this?"

"Oh, yes. But…maybe you should wait until he calms down." Draco pulled Rayne from Harry's arms. "You need to calm down too. I'll talk Rayne and you go…relax and pamper yourself."

"Thank you, Draco."

"No problem." Draco winked. "What are friends for, eh?"

"Yeah." Harry smiled in return. "I'll go…relax."

Draco arched a brow before taking off with Rayne. Whatever they were going to do, Harry didn't know. He should feel stressed without any of his children near him, but all he could feel was relief. He knew that his children were protected and safe with the pack and that he has absolutely nothing to worry about. What he needed now was…was a nice, long bath. Oh yes; he couldn't remember the last time he took a long, relaxing bath to ease his muscles.

A smile stretched across Harry's lips as he changed directions and went for the stairs. He could still hear Fenrir stomping and grumbling, but paid it no mind.

Once in his room, he bee-lined it for the bathroom and immediately turned on the faucet to the bath. He touched his fingers to the quickly rising water and vanilla-scented bubbles began to form. It was a little trick he'd learned in a desperate attempt to calm Mason when it turned out that his cute little baby wasn't too fond of baths.

He shredded his clothes, turned off the faucet—the bubbles automatically stopping—and stepped into the hot water. Almost instantly, his muscles melted and his body relaxed as warmth swept through him. He moaned softly and sunk further into the water. His eyes fell halfway closed and his mind began to drift off into a state of bliss.

Now this was it, he thought to himself. He really couldn't remember how long it had been since he ever felt so relaxed. Probably not since he and Fenrir first mated. Hell, possibly even a little bit before that.

Next thing he knew, however, his eyes were fully closed and he felt suddenly weightless. He quickly opened his eyes in surprise, but instead of seeing his bathroom, he was in a room that wasn't even located in his manor. Not to mention he was now fully clothed and standing up.

The room was painted completely black—the walls and the ceiling were at least—and the floor was made of black marble. There were writings, ruins, written in blood red on the walls and in the center of the room was a black basin full of blood. Standing on either side of the basin were two figures in black robes. One had his hands raised over the basin and was chanting, and the other had their wrist over it, letting out a steady stream of blood.

Suddenly the chanting stopped and both turned to face him as they removed their hands from over the basin. He recognized only one face, one that made him draw in a sharp gasp, and the other was completely unfamiliar. Voldemort smirked as they locked eyes, blood red clashing with vibrant green.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Tom."

"That is not my name!" Voldemort snapped quickly before regaining his composure. "You ran away from me, Harry. I want you back."

"As if I'd return to you." Harry sneered. "Nor will you ever find me. Now release this spell."

"I think not." Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "I think I will keep you here and let your body starve and die."

"That will never happen!" Harry shouted. "Fen—."

He suddenly stopped, his eyes widening. Not only was Fenrir pissed at him, but Harry didn't even know if Fenrir could really do anything to get him out of…whatever state he was in. His eyes snapped back to lock with Voldemort's.

"How did you even get me here, Tom?"

Voldemort's smirk widened. "Wouldn't you like to know, Harry? Well, since I am going to kill you anyway, it matters not. I could not do it successfully had I not used your blood to gain this body. It is a very old, and very dark ritual that I did a lot of research on. I put a lot of time and effort into you, Harry, so you should be courteous and return to me."

Harry clenched his fists. "Really? And what would happen if someone were to…I don't know, jostle my body or something?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing." Voldemort laughed. "My plan is flawless. The only way the ritual can be broken is if someone with a stronger bond to you than the one we share were to call you. And that is impossible, as the only bond stronger than ours is between mates."

"Mates, huh?" A smile threatened to stretch across Harry's face, but he kept strict control over his features as to not alarm Voldemort.

Now, all he needed was for his mate to realize he was in trouble. If Fenrir wasn't too pissed to realize what was going on, anyway. Hopefully at least Draco would be concerned as to why he hadn't come down to check on his pups in so long. A stroke of fear went through Harry's body.

His pups shared his blood, what if Voldemort somehow found out about them? He could possibly use the same ritual and hold his children hostage. His panic spiked, but he kept his expression schooled under Voldemort's piercing gaze.

Suddenly, he felt hands on his shoulders. He frowned, looking down and finding nothing there. The feeling moved down to his arms and he had the sensation of being shook, though he in actuality he wasn't moving. His frown deepened as a familiar voice suddenly resonated in his mind.

_"_ _Harry? Harry!"_

Was that…Fenrir? He couldn't help the triumphant smile that came over his face as he looked up at Voldemort. The man's face was screwed up in confusion, causing Harry's smile to morph into a smirk. Voldemort frowned.

"Just what do you find so funny, Potter?"

"Oh, nothing." Harry sing-songed. "Tell me, how long has it been since you were ever proven wrong, Tom?"

"What?" Voldemort snarled.

"Well, from your cocky attitude, I would say that it hasn't been recent. Or at least, everyone around you is too scared to point it out."

_"_ _Harry, what the fuck?!"_ He felt a tugging sensation on his body.

Voldemort's eyes widened as they flicked over Harry's body. He looked down to find his body transparent and floating a bit off the ground, the rest of the room behind him and the floor beneath him clearly visible. The smile returned as Fenrir's voice got louder and louder, almost to the point where it sounded as if it were in the room. Voldemort snarled.

"You!" Voldemort's eyes flashed as he turned to the man beside him. The unknown man jumped. "Start up the chant! Do whatever you have to, to keep him here!"

"Y-yes, my lord." The man's hands returned to their position above the blood-filled basin, and the lids of his eyes dropped halfway closed as he began his chanting.

Harry's eyes widened as he felt a jerk right where his belly-button was, similar to how it felt whenever he apparated, and his body began to reform. His mind race and he closed his eyes, searching for the bond he and Fenrir had as mates. It took him much longer than it should have, and it was weak when he finally did find it, but he latched onto it quickly.

" _Fenrir! Fenrir, respond to me, please."_

A heart-dropping moment passed, and then—

_"_ _Harry?"_ The man's voice was filled with relief.  _"What the fuck?"_

_"_ _I don't know, but I need you to—."_

Suddenly pain filtered through his body and, as his focus broke, the connection he had with Fenrir was lost. He could no longer hear his mate as excruciating pain spiked through his body. He knew a Crucio when he felt one, and he was quite certain it was Voldemort who was using it. The curse was released and he slumped to the ground. He winced when his hair was grabbed in a rough grip and his head was yanked upwards until he met Voldemort's furious gaze.

"Who is it?!" The man yelled. "Who did you mate with? How?"

Harry smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Voldemort's eyes tightened at the obvious mimicry of his earlier words. His lips twisted and he released Harry's hair to cast another Crucio on the poor raven. Harry screamed, and then immediately bit his lip to hold back the noise. Just as before, he would not give Voldemort the pleasure of hearing his pain. He just curled into himself, screwing his eyes shut and hoping Fenrir could get him out of wherever he was.

There was another sharp tug in his abdomen and he suddenly felt weightless. But the spell of the ritual and the Crucio cast on him, however, held him down. A small game of tug-o-war began as his body alternated between phasing in and out of the room. Another scream came unbidden past his lips as the pain in his body increased sharply.

Then he was gasping, sitting up quickly as water splashed around him. He flailed as strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him out of the water and into a warm, broad chest. A voice in his ear made his body go still and relax.

"Shh, Pup, it's okay. It's me. It's okay."

Harry took deep, gasping breaths as he shivered, the cool air hitting his still warm body. He turned in Fenrir's arms and buried his face in his mate's neck. Fenrir's arms tightened around him, causing his body to curl in more into the man's lap.

"Harry, what the hell just happened? All of a sudden I couldn't…I couldn't feel you there. At all. The bond was just gone. And then I come lookin' for you and…and you wouldn't respond to me."

He looked up at Fenrir, seeing the concern and worry in his mate's smoldering grey eyes, and immediately broke down. All the stress and anger he'd been feeling lately just burst out through tears, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed. Fenrir's eyes widened and he cursed under his breath as he gathered Harry's closer into his arms.

The man stood and carried Harry out of the bathroom to set the raven down on their bed, pulling back the blankets so that they could cuddle up together. Harry wrapped his arms around Fenrir's neck as he sobbed into his mate's shoulder. Fenrir splayed his hands across Harry's bare back, rubbing soothing circles into the warm skin with his thumbs.

Together they laid there for who knows how long until Harry's tears finally stopped. He looked up shyly at Fenrir from under his eyelashes with red-rimmed eyes, his cheeks heating with embarrassment.

"Sorry for crying on you, Fen." He said quietly, his voice scratchy and rough.

Fenrir arched a brow. "What am I here for, eh? Even though I ain't good at this comfortin' crap, I'm your mate and it's my job to make you feel all good. Now, tell me what the hell just happened so I stop freakin' out."

Harry shivered. "Voldemort happened. He has…some weird ritual he used to…I don't know…call my soul to him or something. I'm scared Fenrir; he was only able to do that because of the blood he used to gain his body— _my_ blood. What if he can somehow get to our pups that way? What if he—?"

"He will never,  _ever,_ get to the you or the pups again." Fenrir said viciously. "Tomorrow, I am going to have Emile and Michal go to Knockturn to find somethin' to protect you and the pups from that bastard."

"Knockturn? Fenrir, I don't what them going somewhere so dangerous."

"It's the closest place that sells those types of things." Fenrir frowned. "Believe me, I don't want them goin' there either, but I want you and our pups protected, ASAP."

"Okay." Harry sighed, too tired to argue with Fenrir about it at the moment. From what it looked like to him, it took a lot of magic to power that ritual, and Voldemort needed time to replenish both his magic and his blood. He was sure they had enough time for Emile and Michal to go somewhere safer, but there was no changing Fenrir's mind at this point.

At least, not without them arguing.

Speaking of which…

"Fen?"

"Huh?" His mate grunted.

Harry licked his lips. "I'm…I'm sorry about earlier. About…keeping Rayne from you. I talked to Draco afterwards, and he enlightened me on a few things."

"Really?" Fenrir shifted to look down at him. "What?"

His cheeks heated and he looked away. "That maybe…the reason why I'm so angry with you giving her all your attention is maybe because I feel like you're not giving me enough."

"Wait, what?" Fenrir sat up, his grip on Harry causing him to sit up too. "Harry, I'm stupid, you have to put things in a way I can understand.

"You are not stupid, Fenrir." Harry glared up at his mate, snapping at him. When Fenrir only arched a brow, he sighed. "I'm sexually frustrated, Fenrir. We haven't had any sex because you ran off to Rayne as soon as she makes a peep, and it makes me unconsciously angry every time."

Fenrir blinked slowly. "So…I got yelled at and banned from my child because you're horny?"

Harry's cheeks heated again. "Don't say it like that! But pretty much…yeah?"

Abruptly, Fenrir began laughing, leaning forward to bury his face in Harry's neck. Harry stared down at his mate incredulously as the man's wide shoulders shook, his laughter causing Harry's body to vibrate. He huffed and waited for Fenrir to finish, glaring at the man when he finally sat up.

"Damn, Harry. I didn't know you wanted sex that badly." Fenrir chuckled. "Getting jealous over your own kid? Come on, Pup."

"That's not funny!" Harry snapped, turning away.

Fenrir chuckled again, and pulled Harry closer to him. He buried his face into the raven's hair and took a deep breath, his eyes closing in bliss. His arms tightened.

"I love you."

For the briefest moment, Harry stiffened before he relaxed into Fenrir's body as warmth spread through him. He smiled and also closed his eyes.

"I love you too, Fen."

It was, sadly enough, the first time Fenrir had ever said 'I love you' to him. Harry was practically on cloud nine now. He felt so… _different_ hearing his mate say it out loud. Of course he knew that Fenrir loved him; there was no way Fenrir would've put up with his snarky, domineering attitude if he didn't. But hearing was a whole other experience, one that he would gladly love to have all the time. However, he knew that this was more than likely a one-time thing, and so he planned to soak it up as much as possible.

But of course, Fenrir had to go and ruin that.

He stiffened when the man's lips suddenly touched softly to his neck, pressing the softest of kisses to the skin. Fenrir moved slowly upwards, setting Harry/s skin on fire with the gentle touch of his lips, until he reached Harry's mouth, where he applied a considerable more amount of pressure. Harry responded easily, moaning softly as he wrapped his arms around Fenrir's neck.

Fenrir eased him back onto the pillows, having to do no work as Harry was already as bare as the day he was born. Harry, however, was quick to unbuckle Fenrir's pants and slid his hands under the hem of his mate's shirt so that he could feel that hard, warm skin. A rumble vibrated through Harry from Fenrir as the man growled low in his chest, pressing their pelvises together.

A guttural groan ripped from Fenrir's throat as Harry flipped them over and straddled his lap, grinding hard into his groin. Fenrir's grip shifted to hold his hips, pushing Harry down onto his mate as they continued to kiss. After a moment he pulled away and took a gasping deep breath, his chest heaving.

Harry deftly unbuttoned Fenrir's shirt and pushed it away from his chest, leaning forward to kiss his skin. He had a broad chest, all muscle, and an abdomen that was to die for. Harry ran a hand down Fenrir's chest, going down to skim the waist of his pants—which was a bit low—and grinned as his mate groaned and flexed his fingers around Harry's hips. Fenrir suddenly sat up with a low growl and ducked down to latch on to one of Harry's nipples. A shock of burning heat ran through his body and he jerked back, tossing his head back with a load moan.

Holding him still, Fenrir teased both of Harry's nipples mercilessly. Every touch sent more sparks of heat through his body. Harry could feel heat coiling in his lower abdomen, signaling the arrival of his oncoming orgasm. It didn't help that, due to Fenrir's teasing, he was writhing and twisting in his mate's lap, providing friction for them both, and bringing them closer to the edge.

"Hmm." Harry hummed as Fenrir gently nipped at his skin with sharp canines.

Fenrir suddenly stopped and leaned back, taking a second to look at Harry with a thoughtful expression. Harry growled at him impatiently, feeling his orgasm wane off.

"Why'd you stop?"

"I just wanted to look at you." He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from Harry's face, tucking it behind his ear. "You're so beautiful."

Harry flushed. "Sh-shut up. Where is all this coming from? You're not acting like you."

The man snorted and thrust his hips upward. "This isn't me, huh Pup?"

A flush of heat went through Harry's body and he smirked lightly. "I don't know, maybe I should check…" He purred, looking at Fenrir from under his eyelashes while running a finger down his mate's broad chest.

He held Fenrir's dark gaze as his finger went lower and lower, skimming the man's waist and slipping a finger under his pants, tugging on them slightly. He leaned in and kissed his mate hard, unbuttoning the man's pants at the same time. Before Fenrir knew what was happening, Harry shoved a hand into his briefs and grabbed his cock, squeezing it lightly.

Fenrir tensed and broke away, letting out a choked groan. Harry laughed softly, gently kneading at Fenrir's shaft. His mate's grip on his hips tightened almost painfully before he let go and grabbed the blanket on either side of him in a hold so tight that his knuckles turned white. He threw his head back, completely exposing his neck and Harry leaned in, sucking and biting at the tanned flesh and drawing out a loud groan.

Harry smirked, and pulled away Fenrir's pants and underwear with a flourish, leaving his mate completely naked. He took a second to sit back and admire his handiwork. He knew Fenrir was hot, but  _damn._ With his hair all tousled across his face and his eyes wide and lusty, the pupils blown so huge that only a small ring of silvery grey was left, and his body so taunt and flushed, and his head thrown back in utter trust and submission…he looked…well…He looked like a friggin' god ready for some smexy time. Some serious smexy time, especially with that hungry look he was giving Harry.

"Harry." Fenrir suddenly growled. "I swear, if my dick is not buried deep inside your ass within the next minute, I'm going to lose it."

Heat flashed through Harry, his body so willing, but he shook his head. "It's been awhile, Fenrir. You have to prepare me first."

In a flash, Harry was flipped over so that he was on his stomach; his back curved with his ass straight in the air and his head buried in the blanket. He lifted his head and went to look back, but soon as he did, he felt a warm wetness at his entrance that caused his head to snap back and a loud, throaty moan to leave his lips.

Fenrir's tongue fucked him slowly and thoroughly, leaving Harry a writhing, mewling mess on the bed by the time his mate stopped. He whined softly as a sense of emptiness left him cold, but not a moment later his whine was cut off as he was entered. He and Fenrir chorused a moan as his mate slowly filled him, the burning sensation both painful and yet pleasurable. It had been so long since the last time they'd been together, and it felt like Harry's first time all over again. Though this time, however, he definitely was not going into heat.

Abruptly, Fenrir's hips snapped into his, pushing his mate completely into him, and Harry let out a loud moan. Harry arched back into Fenrir, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his mate thrust into him. Dammit, he was going too slow, Harry thought to himself.

"Faster, Fen, please." He managed to breathe out. "More."

He grunted and complied, shifting for a new angle and thrusting harder, faster. Harry strained against him, pushing back to meet him with every plunge. Then all of a sudden, Fenrir slipped and hit Harry's prostate, making him scream louder than he ever screamed before. Fenrir stilled, breathing hard and only his head inside, and chuckled low.

"Like that Harry?" He husked out.

The raven glared at him. "Fenrir Greyback if you don't move, I swear to fucking—."

Cutting Harry off, Fenrir suddenly slid in. Harry didn't care, as long as Fenrir kept hitting his prostate in just that way. Merlin, everything was so fucking hot. Harry felt like he was on fire, but it felt good and bad at the same time. He wanted more and more with each and every thrust. He could feel my orgasm building, the familiar tightening in his lower stomach making him gasp loudly.

Harry screamed as he came, arching up and tensing around Fenrir. He came a second later with a loud growl, no doubt because Harry tightened around him. It seemed to last forever, even longer than any other time. Everything ached and felt wonderful at the same time when it finally, blissfully, ended. Fenrir slid into a boneless heap on top of Harry, still inside of him, causing Harry's body to slid forward and lay splayed out across the bed.

"Get off me, Fen." Harry groaned. "You're heavy."

Fenrir's chest pushed against Harry's back as his mate sighed, but rolled over anyway. He gathered Harry into his arms and scooted back to the head of the bed, where they crawled under the blanket and cuddled together. Harry sighed softly, feeling more at ease than ever. He could tell Fenrir felt the same by the low purr that his mate didn't seem to notice he was emitting from his chest. Harry inwardly laughed and snuggled closer into Fenrir's chest.

"That…was great." Fenrir said in a sedated, satisfied voice. "Why did we stop again?"

"We had pups." Harry snorted. "See if I let you get me pregnant again. I'll cut your fucking balls off."

"Then we couldn't have sex when you're in heat. Unless you wanna use a condom?"

Harry frowned. "Wouldn't it just…break?"

"More than likely."

"Huh. Guess having pups is kind of inevitable, huh?"

"I dunno. When's your next heat?"

"Dunno." Harry blinked. "Shouldn't you know that? I mean, I'm still kind of going through I crash course of all this werewolf business."

Fenrir snorted. "Ah, you're a natural. And it depends on each wolf. I honestly hadn't been expecting your first heat so soon after your transformation. Maybe it's because you're a male sub."

"Maybe." Harry yawned. "Where are the pups, anyways?"

"Last I knew, Emile had Jon; the Twins took off somewhere in the backyard with Mason, and Draco was trying to placate Rayne when I went to come find you."

Harry yawned again. "M'kay. I'll…play with them all together when I…wake up. They need some of their mommy. I haven't…had them…all day."

Fenrir's chuckled reverberated to him. "Go to sleep, Harry. I'm here with you. Voldemort can't get you, okay?"

"M'kay. Love you, Fen."

"…Yeah, same here."


	16. Lords and Lordlings

Another two months passed with relative peace. After talking a bit more, and settling a few things, Fenrir made sure to show Harry more affections, the two having almost as much ‘alone time’ as they did before the pups were born. They even got through the ‘third month scare’, as Harry had began to call it, without any arguing or fighting.

Harry was well aware of what happened to all of the pups from Fenrir’s previous mates before him. None of the poor things made it past their third month, which explained Fenrir’s sudden over protectiveness of the pups when they neared their third months and all throughout.

Fenrir went absolutely anal about the pups’ health. He made sure they were fed on time, were bathed often enough, got enough sleep at night, and any other thing he could think of. He even had the entire pack sterilize the whole house once a week, and no one save himself and Harry could touch the pups.

It was endearing and a little cute, but Harry had gotten fed up enough when his wolf instincts decided they wanted to come out. It was irrational, but Harry felt as if Fenrir was comparing him to the others before him just a bit too much. Even though he knew that Fenrir was only doing this simply because the repeated experience had became too much and a deep-seated fear settled into his heart, that the man _wanted_ their pups to survive, he still felt as if Fenrir thought of him as incapable. All the other’s pups were born either sickly or generally weak, whereas Harry’s hadn’t, and he felt that the precautions Fenrir was taking were unnecessary.  

Of course, he kept this to himself because the more rational part of his mind told him it was a horrible idea to bring it up. Then his instincts settled down and the ‘scare’ eventually passed and Fenrir calmed down. Fenrir’s relief had been so great, in fact, that they ended up having the best sex they had since Harry’s first heat. And that made him _very_ happy that he hadn’t went and nagged Fenrir.

Now, Harry’s only concern was Voldemort.

The snake-faced man had been quiet. Too quiet in Harry’s opinion. Fenrir was lax about the issue; the man had, as he said he would, sent Emile and Michal to Knockturn for warding charms. Once he assured that Harry and the pups were safe enough, he took it upon himself to go hunt down warding charms of higher quality. While Harry was grateful of his mate for doing so, he refused to relax. He had done so before, and that resulted in his soul getting sucked straight from his body. 

He went ahead and did a little research. Living in the manor of which housed generations upon generations of Blacks had its benefits. The library had an impressively extensive amount of books on any type of dark magic available. Harry, along with a bored and irritated Draco, had spent many a long hours digging through the library, trying to find some sort of explanation for what happened to Harry. He knew it was a ritual, but which one? Was it blood magic? Or was Voldemort’s blood just a bit of extra to make the ritual more potent? There were so many unanswered questions, and Harry was determined to have them answered. He did not want his pups to be in any type of danger.

A part of Harry’s research was a way to defeat Voldemort. He knew very well that he had no possible way of defeating Voldemort—not with only five and a half years of magical education (not counting the year of Umbrige), no wand, and the unfortunate occurrence of being a werewolf, which made it harder to use wizard magic as weres were naturally repellant to it—and he knew that the only way he was going to be able to defeat the madman was with outside help.

“Harry…why don’t you use…whatever it is when you heat up the pups bottle, or when you used to hide your scars?”

As what was beginning to become the usual, Harry and Draco were in the dusty library, surrounded by books. The blonde was reclining on a conjured, plush lounge chair, holding a glass of orange juice—Harry found it hilariously ironic that Draco’s main cravings were Muggle foods—in one hand, and twirling a quill in the other. Harry was sitting at a desk, staring in mental exhaustion and irritation at the messy pile of books and scribbled-on parchment in front of him. At Draco’s words, his gaze flicked up to the blonde and he sat p with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No, no, no. I don’t…know exactly how I use that magic. All I know is that it’s not wizard magic. It’s something else, entirely.”

“How can you tell?”

“I don’t know.” Harry shrugged. “It’s just the way it feels. The way I use it. Half the time, I only can use it when I’m distressed. The other half of the time is by accident.”

Draco sipped his juice. “But you can always use it for whatever purpose that caused you the distress afterwards, right”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s a matter of willing, right?” Draco arched a brow. “Grab that paper, close your eyes, and think about whatever it is you do when you try to warm a bottle.”

Sighing heavily, Harry did as Draco asked. He didn’t understand what the blonde was saying, but he might as well give it a try. What _did_ he think about when he made the pups bottles? He…didn’t really think about it. It just happened. But there had to be _something._

He knew that the bottle had to be warmed. His pups couldn’t have cold milk, or else it would give them a stomach ache. It was just…instinctual. But if he _did_ have to think about it…he would jus focus on…warming it? So would he have to…think about setting the parchment on fire?

“Harry!”

His eyes snapped open at Draco’s shocked outburst. He followed the blonde’s gaze down to the parchment, of which was smoldering where his fingertips touched it. As he watched, the smoke slowly dissipated, and the parchment fell out of his grip as part of it turned to ash.

“What the…” He looked up and met Draco’s gaze.

Draco arched a brow. “What were you thinking about?”

“Well…” Harry bit his lip. “At first, I was thinking about how I warmed the pups bottles, and then I thought about setting the parchment on fire.”

“Do it again.” Draco sat up. “Grab another parchment and think about it again.”

Harry was quicker to comply this time, grabbing the nearest parchment and thinking hard about setting it on fire. This time, the whole thing set aflame, and he dropped it with a sharp curse. It crumbled to ash even as it fell to the table.

“Well, I was right.” Draco snorted.

The door sudden burst open, and Fenrir and Michal rushed in panicky, followed by Emile and Remus. They went to their respective mates and in perfect synchronicity said,

“I felt you panic, what happened?”

Eyes wide, Harry and Draco locked eyes before laughing loudly. That one moment had to be the only time in history Fenrir and Michal ever did something similar. The two were just too different.

“What’s so funny?” Fenrir grumbled, pulling his mate to his feet.

Harry shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing’s funny, and nothing happened. Well, not exactly.”

“Show him, Harry.” Draco snorted out, still laughing.

Grinning lightly, Harry grabbed another parchment—he really should stop, he was destroying his notes—and set it aflame with a mere thought. Fenrir blinked at the flaming paper, and then gave him an unimpressed look.

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Harry dropped the paper as the flame ate at it and turned it into ash. “Magic, Fen.”

Fenrir gave him a droll look. “No fuckin’ duh.”

“No, _magic._ I can use I can use magic to defeat Voldemort.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? What the hell, Fenrir?” Harry frowned at his mate.

The man shrugged. “I just thought it was somethin’ serious.”

Everyone else began to back out of the room as the air suddenly thickened and heated. It didn’t take a genius to realize the two were more than likely about to have a big fight. The two Alpha’s didn’t take notice.

“What do you mean serious? This _is_ serious. I can finally defeat Voldemort!” Harry exclaimed.

Fenrir rolled his eyes. “So what? You can’t just run in there relyin’ on this…magic you found and expect to win.”

“I’m not an idiot, Fenrir. Obviously there are a lot of things that still have to be planned out, like how this is going to go, back up plans, where to go afterwards…”

“I dunno about this, Harry…”

“Why are you so against this? Don’t you want Voldemort gone?”

“Of course I do—.”

“Don’t you want our pups to be safe?”

“Yes—.”

“Don’t you want me to be safe?”

“Harry—.”

“ _Don’t you?”_

Fenrir growled, picking Harry up and setting him on the desk, effectively shutting him up with a glare. “Shut up and listen to me. Yes, I want you and the pups safe. That is, and always will be, my first priority. But we both know how Voldemort is. We know how dangerous and sly that bastard is. I know how excited you are about findin’ a solution, Harry, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. What if this magic of yours is simply platonic? What if you can’t do a damn thing against Voldemort? I don’t want to die because that magic was faulty.”

Harry looked down, chastised by the points Fenrir was bringing up. His mate was right. He was definitely rushing too fast into this, raising his hopes just a bit too high. Just because he found a solution doesn’t make it the only, or best, one. There was a sigh above his head, and he was suddenly enveloped in Fenrir’s arms, his face pressing into his mate’s chest.

“I don’ mean to put you down, pup. I just want you to think about this a little more.”

“Since when were you the thinker in this relationship?” Harry snorted.

“I’m the thinker when I want to be. But don’t make me do this too much. I prefer being stupid.”

“Stop calling yourself stupid, Fenrir.” Harry scolded automatically. If he had a Knut for every time his mate called himself stupid or retarded…

Fenrir rumbled out a laugh. “Sure thing, pup.”

Harry pulled back and stared up at his mate. “Fenrir, can we go to America?”

“America?” Fenrir arched a brow. “What’s with this all of a sudden?”

“It’s not sudden.” Harry looked down and began to play with the hem of Fenrir’s shirt. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I don’t want our pups growing up in an environment that’s biased against, well…everything. Especially biased about us. According to the media, you’re a bloodthirsty monster that eats little kids and I’m some supposed superhero who evidently has the ability to save everyone’s asses. And then there’s the prejudice against Dark creatures. I want our pups to go to school, to have an education and be able to experience life. I want them to be able to go out and do as they like, with no fear.”

“Harry?”

Their eyes locked. “I don’t want Mason, Jon, or Rayne to go through any type strife because of who they are. Nor do I want our new pups to go through it either.”

“New pups?” Fenrir’s eyes mirrored his confusion, and then suddenly widened with realization. “You’re…?”

“I’m pregnant.” Harry bit his lip.

Fenrir whooped, grabbing Harry around the waist and lifting him into the air. They spun around the room, until Harry got dizzy. His mate set him down on his feet, then leaned down to kiss him soundly on the lips. Harry got into the kiss quickly, arching into Fenrir with a moan, but the man pulled away before things got too heated.

“Your last heat was two weeks ago, so I’m guessin’…?”

“Yup. I’m two weeks along. I had Draco do a diagnostic spell when one morning I almost threw up when I smelled coffee.”

“Coffee?” Fenrir winced. “Is that why you’ve been moody? No caffeine and crazy hormones?”

Harry scowled. “I have not been moody.”

“You threw Mason’s bottle across the room yesterday and nearly knocked Jake out with it because you accidentally made his formula too thick and it wouldn’t come out the nipple.”

“It’s time we started giving them baby food anyway.”

“Oh, really?” Fenrir arched a brow. “And when did you decide this?”

“…Yesterday.”

Fenrir snorted. “Okay, okay. I’ll send Emile and Remus later today. Those two need some ‘alone time’ anyway.”

Harry threw his hands up. “I thought I was the only one who noticed. The sexual tension between those too couldn’t be cut with a chainsaw.”

“Chain…saw?” Fenrir’s brow scrunched.

“Uh…it’s a Muggle thing.”

“Muggles…” Fenrir frowned thoughtfully. “You know, if we moved to America, we’d have to move in a large area that’s _not_ surrounded by Muggles, right?”

“Oh, no worries. Between the Potter and Black estates, I’m pretty sure I have some inhabited land somewhere in America. And if I don’t then I can damn well buy some land.”

Fenrir’s frown deepened. “I feel like I’m the woman in our relationship.”

“Why? Because I provide everything for us?” Harry snorted. “At least I don’t act like woman, unlike Draco. _He_ acts effeminate and he has more money in his vaults than he can do with. Michal probably shits bricks every time Draco goes and buys everything he wants.”

“He has all his vaults, right? Because Lucius died?”

“Yup, though he has yet to claim his Lordship. As a matter of fact, I have to do that too.” He sighed. “Two Lordships, what the hell am I going to do with those?”

“Bet yer happy I ain’t one of those pureblood brats, huh?” Fenrir smirked, causing Harry to scoff.

“At least _they_ could provide for me and my pups.”

His tone was clearly joking and Fenrir picked up on it immediately, growling playful at Harry. The raven giggled lightly and stood on his tippy toes to kiss his mate lovingly.

“You know you’re the only one for me, Fen.”

“I better be.” Fenrir grumbled. “I’ll skin anyone who tries to do anything to you.”

Harry smiled. “See, Fen? You do just enough for me and your babies. You love and protect us. That’s all you need to do. Sit back and let me take care of you, okay?”

Fenrir shook his head with a quiet laugh. “I don’t know what to do with you, Harry Potter.”

~oOo~

Getting the pups to switch from formula to baby food was murder. Jon wanted both, Mason would only eat the pureed fruits and mushed cereal Harry had to make by hand because he refused anything that came in the little baby jars, and Rayne refused absolutely anything that wasn’t milk.

Draco would be laughing at his situation, if it wasn’t for the fact that the blonde was going through his own troubles. Just as Fenrir did to Harry, Michal had taken to carrying Draco everywhere, or shadowing behind the blonde when he managed walk around after forcing Michal to let him go. Draco was just as thin as Harry was, and therefore his pregnant belly was just as obvious as the raven’s had been. And, just like it happened with Harry, apparently all the dominate males in the household suddenly grew into the belief that submissives were weak, though all of them had their fair share of fearful moments when either one of them was angry.  

Harry relished in Draco’s pain, as the blonde had done to him. He had been waiting for this day since Draco got pregnant. Now the blonde knew _exactly_ how horrible of a mood Harry had been in with everyone treating him like spun glass, especially as his pregnancy furthered. Not that Harry could tease the blonde _too_ much, considering that he would be in the same predicament in just three scant months.

The pack was already in an uproar with him being pregnant again. The only one who hadn’t been surprised was Draco, and only because the blonde was the one Harry had asked to do the diagnostic spell on him. Everyone was generally happy for the two Alpha’s, until the twins brought up the matter of space.

While Grimmauld place was a large manor, the pack already filled a little more than half of it, bedroom wise. And then there was Mason, Jon and Rayne who would all need their own rooms when they got older. Then there were Draco’s pups. Even though it was estimated that the blonde would have three since he was about the same size Harry was when he was four months along, they could only guess how many the blonde would have. With Harry pregnant again with an unknown number of pups, with the manor was already too small with Draco’s upending pups, the need for a bigger place was becoming immediate.

Which was why Harry and Draco were currently on their way to Gringotts. It was about time the settled their Lordships. Usually, one would go to the Ministry’s Department of Lordships for that, but since the both of them were trying to stay under the radar, Harry was pulling a few strings with the goblins to make this happen.

Since they were werewolves, glamours wouldn’t work, and they had to resort to the Muggle way of disguises. Draco had grumbled about it till Harry reminded the blonde that they had to do this, and that he was already consuming Muggle foods so what difference did it make.

Now the two were dressed in black robes with the hoods up, and the wigs and colored contacts Harry had Remus buy from a Muggle store. If no one looked closely enough, the two could pass as women with considerably flat-chests, one of which was just budding with pregnancy. Now, Harry was a hazel-eyed woman with dark chestnut brown hair and, Draco was a blue-eyed woman with sandy brown-blonde hair, the both of them with bangs long enough to cover most of their face.

Emile, being Harry’s unsaid bodyguard, was chosen to go along with them. Lance opted to also go along, for extra security he had given for a reason, though everyone knew the man just wanted to get out of the house.

The trip to Diagon Alley had been simple. All they had to do was Floo to the Leaky Cauldron and go through the back, to the brick wall of which was an entryway to Diagon Alley. The hard part proved to be getting through the crowds without attracting attention. Harry and Draco turned out to be very pretty women, and the both of them had presences that demanded all to focus on them—Harry because he was an Alpha, and Draco simply because it was the way he was raised. It was lucky that Emile and Lance, the pack’s two strongest fighters after Fenrir, were with them as the large men kept anyone else from nearing them.  

Then they were in Gringotts and both Harry and Draco immediately shifted into business mode. Their backs straightened and their stride smoothened and theirs gaze hardened. It didn’t come as a surprise to Emile and Lance, having witnessed the two submissives clearly state their dominance with a mere change of stance, but the small amount of wizards and witches inside were shocked into awe at the sudden change.

Harry’s chin rose as he stopped in front of the teller, a goblin wearing a simple golden chain whose face immediately shifted into a nasty scowl. Arching a brow, Harry leaned closer to the teller.

“A dragon’s treasure is his alone.” He murmured cryptically.

The teller’s eyes bulged and the goblin swallowed. “May death befall those who disobey. If you will follow me please, Mr. Potter sir.”

“Thank you.” Harry smiled slightly. “My companions will also come along.”

“Very good sir.” The goblin nodded frantically, jumping from his chair and gesturing for Harry to follow as he scuttled off down a hall.

Draco arched a brow as they began to follow the goblin. “Do I want to know what just happened?”

“Ironfist knew I was coming in disguise, and therefore set up a secret message of which only a select few goblins knew. That is why I went to the teller in the farthest corner.”

“Ironfist?” Draco frowned. “He is in charge of the Malfoy vaults.”

Harry snorted. “He, apparently, is in charge of the Potter and Black vaults also. How coincidental, don’t you agree?”

“Indeed.”

The goblin stopped in front of two very elegantly designed doors, bowing low as he gestured for Harry to enter. Harry nodded and smiled at the goblin.

“May I ask your name?”

“My…?” The goblin blinked in surprise. “My name is Steelgrip, Mr. Potter sir.”

“May your gold always flow, Steelgrip.” Harry said, entering the room before the shocked goblin could respond.

Another goblin sat behind a very large desk, though he was clearly a high level than Steelgrip, going by the gold that dripped from his fingers and neck. Goblins were ranked by the amount of gold they were allowed to wear. This goblin in particular was Ironfist. Harry bowed deeply to the goblin, who stood and bowed just as deeply in return. The two smiled at each other when they straightened.

“Harry Potter, it is good to see you, old friend.” Ironfist said sincerely.

“The feeling is mutual, Ironfist.”

Ironfist gestured towards the chairs. “Please, have a seat. There is much to be discussed.”

“Indeed.” Harry sat in a comfy armchair, followed a moment later by Draco. Emile and Lance opted to stand behind their chairs. “Would you like to begin with pleasantries, or get straight to it?”

“Ah, yes. How is your mate?”

“Fenrir is great. He has gotten better at given the boys a bit more attention, but his focus is still slightly dominated by our daughter. It’s okay though, I can deal with it.”

“Mason, Jon, and Rayne, yes? How are they?”

Harry grinned. “Amazing. They are growing so fast. I can’t wait until they start walking. But enough of me, how is Nimblefingers?”

A grin split Ironfist’s face in half. “She is pregnant.”

“Is she? How wonderful! Your first right? How far along is she?”

“Almost a month in.” If possible, Ironfist’s smile grew.

“That is wonderful.” Harry gestured to Draco. “Draco here is also pregnant, though he’s already four months in.”

Draco snorted. “Pay me no mind. Harry you are also pregnant.”

Ironfist’s eyes widened. “Once again? How lucky it must be to be so fertile.”

Harry put his hand on his still flat stomach. “Yes. I would love nothing more than to have a big family. as big as it can possibly grow.”

“Hmm, it would certainly help if you had access to all your vaults, would it not Mr. Potter?” Ironfist cleared his throat and gathered a few stacks of paper on his desk. “I understand that you are here to claim your Lordship, both of you, yes?”

“Yes. And also an account of all our assents.” Harry added.

“Mmm, you must first become a Lord before that occurs.” Ironfist smirked. “Let’s start, then.”

The goblin did some tricky hand movements, and two wicked looking daggers followed by two small red clay bowls and three crystal phials filled with a strange, silver liquid appeared on the table. He shifted some papers until he pulled out three in particular, and then grabbed the three small black boxes that were beside him. Another complicated swish of Ironfist’s hand caused two completely black, sinister looking, feathers that Harry recognized as blood quills to appear. Then Ironfist’s gaze returned to them, switching back and forth between the two.

“Who will begin first?”

Draco straightened. “I will as I only have one Lordship to claim.”

“Very well.” Ironfist grabbed one of the quills and one of the parchments, handing them both to Draco. “If you will sign along the dotted line please?”

Lips tightening as he took the blood quill, Draco signed his name with a quick flourish. He grimaced as his name appeared in his handwriting along the back of his hand, blood welling and spilling across his skin. Ironfist nodded in approval, taking back the parchment and setting the blood quill on fire. He caught Harry’s surprised look.

“It is illegal for anyone to share blood quills. As you know, your essence is in your blood, therefore leaving residue that not even the strongest spells can get rid of, and it would not bode well for anyone should the blood of two separate people mix accidental. Especially when signing legal documents such as this.”

“Oh.” Harry looked down with a frown. He certainly hoped that Umbridge hadn’t forced anyone else to share the same quill as he did. Or else who knows what ties he might have to anyone because of the bloodsharing.

Ironfist continued on, grabbing a dagger and clay bowl. He set the bowl in front of Draco, and then looked at the blonde questioningly.

“Would you prefer I do the bloodletting, or would you like to do it yourself?”

Draco eyed the dagger then grimaced, holding out his palm for Ironfist to take. The goblin made quick work of slashing Draco’s skin, quickly turning the blonde’s hand over and therefore allowing the stream of blood to spill steadily into the bowl. When it was halfway full, Ironfist muttered something in Gobbledygook and Draco’s hand was healed.

The goblin then upturned one of the crystal phials into Draco’s blood and then dipped one long nail into the water, muttering once again in Gobbledygook. Then he opened one of the boxes, which turned out to be holding a chunky-looking rock, and dropped the ring into the liquid mixture. A moment passed, then silver words began to form:

_Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy of the Most Ancient and Noble Malfoy House_

Suddenly, the words faded and the mixture began to disappear, draining from the bowl as if there was a hole in the bottom. When it was gone, there was nothing left but the rock Ironfist had dropped into it, though it was different. No longer was it a chunk of silver but an elegant-looking ring made of silver. It was an interesting ring, designed in such a way to look like a silver snake wrapping itself around one’s finger, its sapphire blue eye glinting up at you knowingly.

Ironfist plucked the ring out of the bowl and handed it to Draco, who took it with a slight frown.

“I do not remember my father’s Lordship ring to look like this…”

“That is because every time an heir comes into his Lordship, a new ring is fashioned every time to best suit its holder. You are a different man from Lucius Malfoy, therefore your ring is going to be of a different type. Though I must say the snake was not unexpected. Every Malfoy ring since the first has had a snake somehow in their ring.”

Draco swallowed slightly and slipped the ring on his finger. Then he gasped lightly and grasped his left shoulder. Harry sat up in alarm, but was waved down by Draco, who rolled his shoulder and sighed.

“It is nothing but my Lordling mark activating.”

Harry frowned. “Lordling mark?”

“Ugh, I forget you know nothing of pureblood customs.” Draco sighed. “A Lordling mark is something that every child of a Lord is born with. It is the same mark passed down through generations of Lords and Lordlings. The Malfoy Lordling mark greatly resembles a quill and can be found on the left shoulder of any and every Malfoy that has ever existed, for example, and when my children are born they will have the same mark. When a child is born, the Lordling mark is hardly noticeable as it will closely match the color of the child’s skin. When the child claims its Lordship, the Lordling mark while darken considerably, which means it has been activated.”

“I don’t have a Lordling mark.” Harry frowned. “And neither do the pups.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. More than likely you either didn’t notice it or passed it off as a birth mark or skin blemish. And your pups don’t have it because you were not a Lord when they were born. More than likely they will develop one once you claim your Lordship.”

“And I would appreciate it greatly if we could get to that please?” Ironfist said with an arched brow.

Harry flushed. “Of course, our apologies Ironfist.”

The goblin snorted and grabbed the other two parchments at his side, and the blood quill, handing it all to Harry. “Sign the dotted line, please.”

Pushing back the memories that surfaced when he grabbed the quill, Harry gritted his teeth and wrote his full name on both the parchments. Once he was done, he all but shoved the quill back at Ironfist. He saw Draco shoot him a look from his peripheral, but opted to ignore it. Ironfist, knowing of Harry’s situation when it came to blood quills, took it all in stride.  

Like with, the goblin drew Harry’s blood and allowed it to fill the bowl halfway before healing the wound and filling the rest of the bowl with the silver liquid. But this time, however, he opened both of the other two boxes and dropped two rocks into the mixture. Two separate lines of words formed as a result:

_Lord Harry James Potter of the Most Ancient and Noble Potter House_

_Lord Harry James Potter of the Most Ancient and Noble Black House_

Then the liquid was drained once again, and two rings were left in the empty bowl. One was obviously the Potter ring, as it was a bright gold lion standing on its hind legs and roaring, its ruby eye shining fiercely, with a thin band coming from either side to secure the lion to one’s finger. The Black was rather ironic, with the ring being black, and was otherwise a delicate twine of wrought vines that twisted around one’s finger.

Harry followed Draco’s lead when Ironfist handed him the rings, placing his Potter ring on his right ring finger and, making a split decision, placing the Black ring on his left ring finger. Almost immediately, a burning sensation broke out in two places; one on his hip and the other just under his collar bone. He cried out and curled into himself, eyes watering as the burning on his collar bone grew worse even as the pain on his hip lessened.

He felt a hand on his back, the petite feel of it identifying the owner as Draco, and tried to relax. It didn’t seem this painful for Draco, so why all the fuss for him?

Eventually, the pain passed and Harry was able to sit up. He glanced back to find Emile and Lance looking at him in worry, but he gave them an assuring smile before turning to Draco, who was frowning lightly.

“The only reason I can think of why it was so painful is because you gained the Black Lordling mark.”

“Then why didn’t the same happen to you?” Harry asked. “Narcissa was a Black, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, but the Lordling Mark can only be passed through a patriarch. So while she does have the Black families Lordling mark, she cannot pass it down to me.”

“Oh.” Harry rubbed his collarbone with a grimace. “Well, now that that’s done…Ironfist, may we see our accounts now?”


	17. Choices Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. I know it's been a really long time since I updated but a lot of shit has been going down in these past couple of months. Hopefully everything has been fully resolved and I can return to my usual updates. Dude like the first couple of paragraphs were just sitting there for months, waiting to be expanded on. I literally just sat here for a little less than two hours trying to get the rest down. It came easily to me this time, hopefully the next chapter will too. I will be so amazed if anyone is still reading this lol

Harry found himself particularly happy when the next full moon rolled around. While the pack went out and hunted, instead of joining them Fenrir chose to stay with Harry and Draco, who was unable to do anything too strenuous such as chasing willy nilly after deer, and play with his pups.

It was quite adorable to see the taller-than-tall, muscular grey-n-black wolf rolling around in the dirt with three pups who were all about slightly bigger than one of his paws. The pups were not deterred, however, by their father's massive size and readily attacked him. Well, they weren't capable of much past rolling around on their bellies and yipping, being only almost five months old, but it was still a sight to see. Fenrir would crouch down, tail in the air like he was a pup, and growl playfully before pouncing at the pups. The little balls of fur would get so excited, rolling around and letting out high-pitched barks, then they would calm down and wait for Fenrir to do it again.

Their Lordling marks were more noticeable on their fur than it was on their skin. Rayne's were a pretty silver that resembled the color of Fenrir's fur on his back. Jon and Mason had dark grey ones like Harry's, contrasting nicely with their black fur.

Harry, as was wizarding tradition, chose his first two children as his heirs—Mason would take the Potter Lordship and Jon would take the Black. It made him feel bad at first, because he had nothing to pass down to Rayne, but Fenrir easily fixed that issue by declaring her the next Alpha when he retired. He was able to do that only because they had three first borns; if Rayne or either of the boys had been his only first born then the pup would have to challenge Fenrir for the position before his death or else the position was left in the open for anyone to take. It was a strange rule, but Fenrir had explained to Harry that it was just a matter of power. No one was going to follow anyone who wasn't strong. But since Rayne's brothers would inherit positions of equal power, then by default she automatically had the right to inherit the position of same power—in this case, becoming Alpha when Fenrir was too old to rule.

In the case that Rayne hadn't in fact been born a dominant, but was actually a submissive—neither Harry nor Fenrir thought it was possible with her domineering personality—any dominant in the pack had the right to challenge her once she became Alpha. Harry didn't like that rule either, but he knew that Rayne was nowhere near being a submissive and merely tolerated it. Jon, on the other hand—Harry was certain his youngest son was a submissive—wouldn't have to face such trials since a Lordship was a wizarding contract that was binding by blood and no one could take the position unless Jon and Harry were both dead. The same applied to Mason, even though he was a dominant like Rayne.

It had been a long and slightly stressful conversation Fenrir and Harry had once the raven had returned from Gringotts to find his pups crying and the rest of the pack in an uproar. Now that it was settled, he was so glad that this heir crap was only for the firstborns. If he had to go through the process of something to pass down to his next litter, he'd go on a killing spree.

Before long, the three pups were yawning and moving around less. Before the night was even half over, the three were asleep. Harry wasn't bothered by it, as the three had eaten before the transformation had taken place, which he always had to do as he didn't have teats to feed them, and they were also starting to sleep through the night. It was already, in fact, past their usual bed time, so he knew they definitely weren't waking up until later in the morning. And since they were sleepy, he was definitely going to take advantage of the opportunity to have a little alone time with Fenrir.

Passing the pups over to Draco was easy, once Harry had managed to convince the blonde that it was training for when he gave birth to his own litter, and that the pups were falling asleep anyway so they wouldn't be kicking up a fuss. Then he and Fenrir had taken off into the forest, where they promptly had sex until victorious howls rose into the air. The sound of the pack successfully catching dinner. They met the rest of the pack back at the clearing and together they all enjoyed a healthy buck, of which the Twins had a boasted about catching.

The rest of the night passed with relative ease and Harry fell asleep with a warm sensation bubbling in his chest. The next morning, however, was another story as he woke up, as always, having to pee but trapped by Fenrir's arms. His pups were safely tucked away with Draco, who had fallen asleep after eating the night before, and so Harry was quick to twist around and knee Fenrir were it hurt. Fenrir woke with a wheezed gasp, his hands leaving Harry's body as the man scrunched up and cupped his jewels. Harry scrambled away and danced off into the forest to pee. When he returned, Fenrir was sitting up and glaring directly at him, Michal and Emile were up to go hunt, and Draco was in the process of getting up.

"Fucking bitch..." Fenrir mumbled as Harry approached, still holding on to his sore bits.

Harry smiled innocently. "Love you too, Fen."

When Fenrir proceeded to growl at him, Harry skipped away with a laugh and went to check on his pups, who had all began to wake up when Draco did. The nearly five months pregnant blonde looked slightly irritable, which only made sense to Harry when he took a glance around noticed that Michal was now gone with Emile, Seth and Tamera, out to hunt for brunch. Being one of the best, Michal was nearly always sent out to hunt, rarely ever being allowed to stay with Draco during the full moon or the morning after, so the two hardly ever had any time together on night like this. It usually wasn't much of a bother for Draco, since the blonde would typically also be hunting as well, but now that he was pregnant he was forced to stay in the clearing, which was probably the source of his ire.

With a small smile, Harry scooped up Jon and Rayne from off of Draco's lap and sat down next to his friend. "Good morning Draco."

Draco huffed. "Good morning, my ar—rear end."

The glare Harry had shot Draco when he nearly cursed melted away and the raven cuddled his two youngest to his chest. "How were the pups? Did they sleep through the night?"

"Mines or yours?" Draco asked with a small grimace, pressing a hand lightly to his protruding stomach.

Harry's eyes widened. "They're kicking already?"

"A bit." Draco shifted. "Mostly pressing down on my bladder. Luckily they were behaving last night."

"These three didn't do too much." Harry said with a soft smile directed at his three little angels. "Had me waking up in a fright sometimes, because I went and had a dream of them being dead inside of me."

"And he would have me laying on his stomach for hours to listen to their heartbeats." Fenrir appeared, sitting next to Harry and taking Mason from Draco. "They would all beat in perfect tempo, so I could never tell how many were in there. Never would've guessed three."

Harry leaned over to rub his face in the side of Fenrir's neck in greeting. "Like you didn't enjoy it."

Fenrir grunted. "I would've enjoyed it a lot more if I had been able to get some sleep."

"Oh, please. You were more worried about the pups than I was."

"Won't deny that, Pup." Fenrir hefted Mason up so that they could make eye contact. When dove grey eyes locked with steel grey ones, Mason immediately perked up and began to gurgle happily, kicking his legs and waving his arms.

"He'll be crawling soon." Harry murmured, watching his mate and oldest pup interact. "We're going to need to babyproof the house."

Draco snorted, attracting the two Alpha's attention. "We need to move. Soon. Your pups are about to start crawling, plus you're pregnant again,  _and_ I'm also pregnant. We need to move and get settled into a new place before it's too late."

Harry looked up at Fenrir. "He's right, Fen. Grimmauld place isn't big enough."

"When we went to Gringotts, we checked our assets. We both have pieces of land in America, both under the Fidelius charm." Draco said.

"And they're near each other." Harry continued. "We can combine our lands, build our own little community. It'll be perfect."

Fenrir sighed. "What about Voldemort, Harry?"

"I'll worry about him at another time."

"Starting to let go of that hero complex of yours?" Fenrir arched a brow.

"A little." Harry replied cheekily. "I'll still defeat him or whatever, but family always comes first."

One of Fenrir's big arms went around Harry's waist and pulled the raven closer so that the Alpha could kiss him senselessly. When they pulled apart, Harry was flush and panting, and Fenrir was smirked.

"Glad you've realized, Pup."

A leering whistle came from the other side of the clearing. The hunting team was back, Seth being the one who whistled at them. He and Tamera were both carrying two rabbits in each hand, and Emile and Michal were carrying a buck between them.

"Not in front of the children, Alpha!" Seth called out playfully, received a jab from Emile for his efforts.

"You're the only child I see." The raven haired man snorted, carefully placing down the buck with Michal's help.

As soon as the buck was being taken care of—by Jake and Renee while Tamera and Erik started on the rabbits—Michal ran over and scooped Draco into his arms, kissing the blonde deeply. Draco, being the proud git that he was, pushed Michal's face away and turned with a pout.

"Good morning, Michal." He said with a huff.

Michal blinked with confusion for a moment, before he smiled indulgently and placed a kiss on Draco's head. " _Dobroye utro , moy Drakon."_

"Hmph." Draco crossed his arms, but he did nothing to hide the blush the infused his cheeks.

Harry giggled at the cute couple. "Good morning, Michal."

"Good morning, Alphas." Michal said with a dip of his head. Then he placed Draco back on the ground. "I must help prepare for lunch, Draco. I will return later."

"…Fine." The blonde turned and gave Michal a small peck on the lips before turning away again. Michal shook his head with a chuckle and left.

"Merlin, Draco, stop being a git. Everyone knows it's fake." Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco huffed. "I'll be a git if I want to."

Harry merely rolled his eyes, choosing not to comment in turn for cooing at the two pups sitting rather calmly in his lap. It made no sense to him why his children were so calm all the time. The only time they were ever particularly active was only when they were prompted to do so, or if something made them extremely happy. Even Rayne had stopped her crying a few weeks after Harry forcefully made Fenrir stop showing their only daughter so much attention. All the books he had read told Harry that his pups should be curious about everything, wanting to grab ahold of things and put things into their mouths. So far, the only thing that really fascinated any of them were the outdoors, and for the most part they were all content to sit back and observe.

He looked up when he felt a nudge against his head, realizing that his typically solemn mate had bumped their heads together when his eyes locked with hard grey one. A inquiring eyebrow rose even as Harry began to smile at Fenrir.

"Stop thinking about it, Pup." The man grunted. "The pups are fine. Nothin' wrong with them. Werewolf young are more calm than human ones. They're fine."

"But, Fen—." Harry tried.

"No buts. Stop worrying." Fenrir said firmly. Then he stood, carefully placing Mason back on Draco's lap. "I have to go and make sure those idiots are doing things right. They're taking a hell of a long time."

Harry smiled. "Okay."

Fenrir nodded once at him before ambling over to the others, already yelling at the top of his lungs for everyone to 'haul ass before he starved to death'. Harry watched with adoration and respect as his mate effortlessly commanded the others with an ease that could be none other than inherit. His attention, however, was drawn away when Draco's snort reached his ears.

"What is it, Draco?" He asked.

Draco shook his head with a short laugh. "I just…never thought something like this could ever happen. Me and you friends? Being werewolves? Mated to someone we love so dearly? And being pregnant on top of that?"

Recognition was dominant on Harry's face. "I understand. I…used to believe that I would never get to see much past my seventeenth birthday. Defeating Voldemort…I thought I would have to die in order for that to happen. I didn't expect to be able to live, have a family, find someone I love. Never thought that…I would be able to find my own peace and happiness. I mean…who would want to be with someone with a madman on his head? The high probability of my death would drive away anyone sane. No one would want to deal with that pain. It was something I had expected. But then Fenrir was quite literally thrown at me and he changed everything…"

Pausing, Harry stole a glance at Fenrir. Seven months into their relationship, hardly a day passing where Harry didn't see his mate, and yet the sight of the man still sent shivers down his back. He could honestly stare at Fenrir all day. It was something he enjoyed doing, those nights he couldn't sleep, staring at Fenrir's face. He knew every single detail about that man's face. He was quite certain that he was the only one who knew that Fenrir had the smallest mole on his right eye lid, or the extremely light dusting of freckles on each of the man's tan cheeks, or the fact that Fenrir looked like an overgrown child when sleeping with a light line of drool always rolling down his cheek. And there were other things too, things that Harry was sure only he knew, things that made Fenrir  _his,_ and his alone.

"Life would suck for me without Fenrir." Harry said with a soft smile, never taking his eyes off of the man he loved. "I'd have…probably given up already if he wasn't there. I would've let Voldemort kill me. I wouldn't have put up a fuss or given a damn. Most of the people who gave a damn about my life was dead…including me. But Fenrir brought me back to life."

Just as he reached up to rub the place on his neck where Fenrir marked him, said man looked up and locked eyes with him. Harry gently caressed the mark before wrapping his arm back around his youngest son, his lips turning into a gentle smirk when he noticed Fenrir's eyes dilate, even from so far away. Then Fenrir's attention was taken away by Jake's loud curse, and the man whipped around to start yelling at the lower level Beta. Harry chuckled softly and turned back to Draco. The blonde was looking at him with an arched brow.

"I truly fear for the amount of children the two of you will bear, with all the sexual tension between the two of you."

"No." Harry snorted, looking down at his luckily still flat stomach. "Fenrir and I talked about it and decided that we would wait until the ones in me now are at least a year. We're still going to have sex, of course, but we agreed to use contraceptives on my heat days."

Draco blinked. "That's a good idea. I think I will ask the same of Michal. I don't want to be pregnant again for a while. Watching you give birth was a terrifying experience and I was so close from hiding from Michal when I realized I was going into my heat the week after. It looked…painful."

Harry shrugged. "I wish I could say that I've dealt with worse, but I don't think even a Crucio could compare to childbirth. But honestly, I think that it was only so painful because there were three of them trying to come out. Maybe you'll have less."

"Maybe…" Draco looked off into the distance with a frown, clearly becoming immersed in his thoughts.

A coo caught Harry's attention and he looked down at the two in his lap. Jon was looking up at him with startling green eyes, arms up and hands making grabbing gestures. Rayne, as always, was glaring at him but her mouth was moving soundlessly—making it possible that she was the one trying to speak to him. Harry smiled at his youngest daughter encouragingly, as it wasn't often that she ever attempted to speak.

Jon and Mason were the loud, talkative ones with their gurgles and coos, but they moved considerably less whereas Rayne was already gesturing at things she wanted with her hands thought she hardly ever opened her mouth for anything other than food. It was strange, because it was she who cried the loudest and was also the most demanding, but she never tried to actually use words as she saw those around her trying to do. In one of the books Harry read, it said that babies would try to emulate the actions of those around them until they were making their way out of the toddler stage. But the only person Rayne truly acted like was Fenrir, and it was a bit obvious that that was more inherit over anything.

"…Harry?" The raven looked up at the soft call of his name to find Draco looking down at his own stomach, the blonde's hand settled over the curve.

"Yes, Draco?"

"What's it like?" Draco's gaze flickered upwards briefly. "Being a parent?"

Harry smirked. "It's the most stressful thing I have ever done in my life. A lot of it is trial and error, and a good part of your day will be spent freaking out over something. You won't get any sleep, and you'll get frustrated easily. But… _but,_ I would never wish for anything else. It's magical and wonderful. Holding the life  _you_ created in your hands, watching them grown and learn…the feeling is euphoric. I absolutely love it."

Draco let out a huge breath. "Thank you, Harry. I…I needed that."

"I understand. Don't worry about anything." Harry's smile was lopsided. "Mama Alpha is here for you."

"Oh, shut up you prat." Draco chuckled. "You are really something else, Harry Potter."

Harry puffed up his chest smugly. "I know."

~oOo~

"Please…" A low, raspy voice begged brokenly. "Take me in. Help me. I will give you valuable information on the boy.

Blood red eyes looked down at the hunched, hooded figure spread out on his floor contemplatively. A long, pale finger tapped lightly against a pale cheek. "Why should I believe anything you say?"

"I was once a part of their pack."

"You are clearly a Loner."

"Even still…I know things. The slutboy has children…I don't know how many…but they are his greatest weakness…and I know other things…take me and heal me and I shall tell you."

Voldemort stood from his wrought throne and glided down the short staircase to the floor below. He came to a stop in front of the shaking figure, eyes narrowed and head tilted to the side. After a moment, a sadistic smile crept across his face, pulling a hard shiver to all those who saw, and he swiftly kicked the hooded figure in the ribs. The person fell back with a harsh cry, hood falling back as well.

Though now bald save for a few scraggly areas of regrowth, and burns and scars left most of the face distinguished, no one could deny that the look on the person's face belonged to none other than Brynna, once loyal member of Fenrir's pack. She was in horrid condition, and anyone could understand why she was there begging for Voldemort's help. It was astonishing that she was still alive.

"You will tell me what you know, little girl." Voldemort hissed. "And I will decided on what I will do with you. Lord Voldemort does only as he wishes, understood?"

"Y-ye-yes, my lord." Brynna gasped out.

The man smirked. "Good. Wormtail, take her downstairs. Put her in the potions lab. Let's see what experiments can do to werewolves."

Bryanna's eyes widened. "Experiments? What experiments?!"

Voldemort ignored her words. "I will be down to question you later, wolf mutt."

Wormtail dragged Bryanna from the room, the desperate girl kicking and screaming as much as she could as they went. Voldemort returned to his throne with a swish of his robes, placing his arms on the armrests on either side of him with his back perfectly straight. The position looked uncomfortable, but it was the way Voldemort sat when he was thinking. His red eyes were glowing and the sadistic smirk was still on his face.

"Children…oh, Harry how  _could_ you...?"

A cold, cackling laugh echoed in the room.

~oOo~

Harry woke with a hiss, chest heaving and body shivering. His skin was slick with cooling sweat, and his heart was beating rapidly in his chest. Anger simmered just under his skin, making the strange magic he seemed to have rise and swirl along his body.

He tried to calm down, glancing around the room to assure himself that nothing was out of place. Fenrir was thankfully still asleep, the man's arm still wrapped tightly around his waist so that Harry now had the small of his back pressed against Fenrir's chest as his body reclined on the large man. The pups were sleeping, going by the soft purring snores the three all seemed to emit. Nothing in the room was changed, and the wards around the entire manor were untouched.

Slowly, Harry's heartbeat lowered and the anger he felt lessened until he no longer felt ready to burst. He let out a soft sigh and relaxed against his mate, thoughts spinning in his head.

Brynna…Dammit, he knew she would somehow come back to bite them in the ass. Harry should've just let Fenrir kill her. But no, his 'hero complex' made him let her go. Now he regretted it with every fiber in his being.

Honestly, going to Voldemort of all people?! She must have been desperate, too desperate to really consider what she was doing. Harry sighed. They were going to have to speed up their plans, move as fast as possible. Voldemort now knew that he had pups, and that they were his greatest weakness—Fenrir naturally included of course, but Voldemort didn't know they were mated…however it was a matter of time before the bitch Bryanna told him. Plus, Harry was in no condition to fight Voldemort at the moment, considering he was pregnant.

"Harry…?" A mumble made Fenrir's chest vibrate, which reverberated into Harry's back.

Harry glanced down at his mate, reaching out to move the hair from Fenrir's face. The man blinked back blearily at him.

"Why're you awake?" The man demanded sleepily.

"A bad dream is all." Harry said softly. He didn't want to worry Fenrir yet, when the man was so calm and relaxed.

His choice proved to be the right one when one of the rare smiles that Fenrir had graced the man's face. Harry felt his chest constrict at the sight of the beatific smile that his mate was somehow able to produce in moments like these.

"I'm here to protect you from all those bad dreams." Fenrir's arm tightened on Harry's waist. "I give you some good lovin', now cm're."

Harry laughed lightly when the arm on his waist dragged him down into a laying position, his and Fenrir's chest pressed tightly together. Fenrir looked down at him sleepily before sliding forward and nudging their lips together. It was a slow and sweet kiss, another rare thing when it came to Fenrir, one that made Harry relax even more. He sighed into the kiss and pressed even tighter against his mate. But then he groaned as Fenrir pulled away.

"Not tonight, Pup. 'M too tired."

"Of course." Harry agreed. "Go back to sleep, Fen."

"Mmm…" In the next moment, Fenrir was asleep once again.

Taking a deep breath, Harry buried his face in Fenrir's neck, allowing his mate's musky cologne-like scent carry him back to sleep.

 


End file.
